


('Cause I'm) Only a crack in this castle of glass

by lulue79



Series: Frozen Hearts [1]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: (kinda), Alternate Universe - Frozen (Disney Movies) Fusion, Elsa!Loki, Gen, Historical accuracy? What historical accuracy?, Hunting to survive, M/M, Olaf!Tony, Science was definitely harmed in the making of this fic, time is a construct
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22815820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lulue79/pseuds/lulue79
Summary: Thor wasn’t ready to be king; he was too impulsive, too gullible. But he couldn’t stop it from happening: Asgard has been without a King for too long. Besides, who could he go to? Their people loved Thor, and in Odin’s absence, any attempt from the Regent to delay the ceremony would be seen as a coup against the Royal Family.Loki has dreaded this moment above all else: Thor was to be crowned king, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.*  *  *When Asgard announced it would open its doors for Prince Thor’s coronation, Tony didn’t hesitate: he wormed his way aboard Prince Hank’s ship, intent on using the rare occasion to study Asgard’s advanced technology and attract new clients for his business.The opportunity to study “magic” was just an additional bonus, really.Complete, updated every Thursday
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki/Tony Stark
Series: Frozen Hearts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640161
Comments: 41
Kudos: 117





	1. Chapter 1

Loki paced back and forth.  
  
Tomorrow.  
  
Tomorrow, Thor was to be crowned king in Odin’s stead. The halls of Asgard will open to anyone who wishes to witness the coronation and Loki would have to-  
  
He gripped his hands. The reassuring softness of the glove was a comfort against these daunting thoughts.  
Thor wasn’t ready to be king; he was too impulsive, too gullible. But he couldn’t stop it from happening: Asgard has been without a King for too long. Besides, who could he go to? The people loved Thor, and in Odin’s absence, any attempt from the Regent to delay the ceremony would be seen as a coup against the Royal Family.  
  
_Bang!_  
  
Loki flinched as the door slammed open. He didn’t need to turn to identify the intruder - only a few wee allowed so far inside the Palace. Among them, Thor alone dares barging in in such a way.  
  
“Brother! What are you still doing here? There is plenty to do, come help!”  
  
Loki winced, “I’ll pass.” He spun around and crossed his arms. Thor’s hair was tangled and his clothes were a mess, the dark red of his cloak tainted brown my either mud or blood. Coming back from a hunt, most likely. “Why are you here? You should be working on your speech.”  
  
Thor waved his hand dismissively. “Lord Frey is working on it. Come now, brother. You shouldn’t lock yourself away on such a day. We should go walk through the city! Inspect the preparations and-”  
  
“Thor!” Loki drew a breath in, trying to regain control of his temper. Has that oaf not considered the repercussions at all? “You cannot let Lord Frey prepare your speech. How will the court and foreign emissaries see you, if you blindly parrot the words written by your regent? A foul, Thor! They will think you no better than a puppet and act accordingly. You will lose any esteem you might have had before even sitting on the throne!”  
  
“Enough Loki! You are acting out of turn!”  
  
Loki clenched his teeth, hot with rage. “Fine! Enjoy your last day as a respected leader, Thor. When your precious ceremony burns to the ground, I shall be laughing in the background.” His hands shook, but he willed his voice to remain steady. “Get out of my rooms. Now.”  
  
For a minute, Loki feared that Thor would deny him this much. His brother had a short temper, and a quick hand. It wasn’t rare for their conversation to get out of control; turn into screaming matches and flying fists. But today, Loki can’t afford it.  
  
He tensed, his frail control about to snap. Thankfully, Thor backed down first. He stormed out, snarling over his shoulder, “This isn’t over, Loki.”  
  
Loki forced himself to stay still until he couldn’t hear Thor’s footsteps echoing in the corridors. His fingertips shook, his head pounded, but he held on.  
  
The corridor was silent.  
  
One second.  
  
Two, three, four-  
  
He snapped.  
  
Snow and ice spread violently from his feet, the air crackling from the sudden drop in temperature. Frost took over the windows. The ice raged on, spikes littering the floor and the walls. The snowstorm was trying to break the doors, but Loki didn’t care - couldn’t care. His gaze was stuck on his hands, and he couldn’t look away. Despite wearing gloves and long sleeves, he knew that if he were to take them off, the skin found under would be a monstrous blue.  
  
_Tap, tap, tap-_  
  
Step noises.  
  
Someone was coming.  
  
Loki broke out of his trance and scrambled to lock the door, before collapsing against it, the fight drained out of him. Shuddering, he finally realized the mess his room had turned into.  
  
These… powers were becoming worse, more violent with every instance. They were every day harder to control, and he feared what would happen tomorrow. Hundreds would have an eye on him at all times. He _mustn’t_ slip.  
  
Deep breaths.  
  
He will have to play host with several rulers, bad blood staining all of their relationships, past if not present. And with Thor so stubborn and determined to sabotage his own coronation...  
  
Loki slid against the door and curled on himself.  
  
This way, at least, he didn’t have to see the damage wrought by his own hands.


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you sure you don’t want to come, Tony?”

Tony gave his friend a fond look, “I have no care for the future ruler of this country. The ball tonight will be much more suited for building new, ah... partnerships,” he said with a salacious smirk. “No, I believe I’ll use this afternoon to study the technological marvels this city has to offer.”

“Don’t think you’re fooling me,” Rhodey stated with a stern look. “Pepper gave me detailed instructions on what you are allowed to do, and what you are not, and second on this list is ‘No sleeping with future business partners’.”

“Second only? I’m offended.” He pouted. “What’s first?”

“I am so not telling you that. You would jump at the chance to disobey just to prove you can.”

“Oh Honeybear, you wound me!”

Rhodey snorted, “I’m sure I do. But I’m serious Tones. No picking up foreign dignitaries. It was hard enough getting an invitation for you, don’t make me regret this, okay?”

“Sure, sure.” Tony waved his hand dismissively, “Now off you go. You shouldn’t make your prince wait.”

Rhodey narrowed his eyes, far from fooled, but he left. Tony hadn’t been wrong, per se. It would be beyond rude if Prince Hank had to wait for a member of his personal guard, and worse even if he ended up being late because of it.

That Tony usually delighted in causing such events was of no importance whatsoever.

Now that he had shaken off his appointed nanny, he will not stay idle in their hotel room. Petitioning the court so they allowed him to come as Rhodey’s plus one to the coronation had been difficult enough, and Tony will make the most of each moment he was allowed inside the elusive Asgard. He had a date with the Rainbow Bridge, and Tony pitied all who would stand in his way.

* * *

Loki forced his hands to stay even. He had long mastered keeping his face void of emotions, but he wasn’t unaware that some tells still slipped through the cracks. Usually, being conscious of it was enough to stop it, but this was testing his control.

Welcoming the foreign dignitaries had been taxing. Prince Hank, a second son, came to represent Midgard. The country was notoriously isolationist, but they had made technological advances in the past decades and Loki hoped to use the event to build relations between their two kingdoms. The prince was rather dull, but he seemed to get along well enough with Thor, who would know how to exploit the situation in his favor. For all Loki could reproach him, his brother wasn’t stupid.

Malekith, king of Svartalfheim, came in person, joined by his whole court. From any other ruler, it would have been a sign of great respect. But the dark elves were notorious for their treachery, and Loki feared some plot was afoot. The memories of past wars were too fresh for it to be anything but a provocation, a challenge to the future king of Asgard before he is even crowned. Still, it wouldn’t do to show such suspicions when one had no proof, so Loki had gritted his teeth and greeted the foreign ruler.

Less notable was the princess of Vanaheim, far in the line of succession, but powerful in her own rights. While it wasn’t ideal, the relationship between their two kingdoms was stable enough, which gave them a bit of leeway. And the gifts the princess had brought along had helped smooth over any bruised egos. Still, Loki would have to speak with Freyja about possible business sanctions.

Several officials from smaller countries and even some rich businessmen also came, to strengthen their power and forge new connections, but Loki didn’t bother with those. Their strategy wasn’t bad, and they might indeed build some political and commercial alliances, but they didn’t concern him. Such small fries were better left to the ministers and the city council. He would have enough on his plate dealing with King Malekith and trying to corral Prince Hank into a treaty.

And, apparently, deal with the bickering and hair-pulling from the Prince’s closest advisors.

“Lord Frey, Lady Iduun. Would you _please_ tell me what is going on?”

The Regent sneered, and Loki felt vindicated when Lady Iduun used the delay to speak first. “We were discussing the latest arrivals, Your Highness. Malekith didn’t send advance notice before bringing with him so many people, and we’re having difficulties finding accommodation for everyone.”

Loki grinned, sharp and feral. He might have had to hide his displeasure and his mistrust, but no one could blame him if Malekith’s ‘court’ were to suffer several mishaps, and oh- be incapacitated for the length of their stay.

“My Prince, there is no need for you to worry about such matters!”

“Thank you, Lord Frey,” Loki answered sweetly, his smile full of teeth. “But we all want my brother’s coronation to go as smoothly as possible, don’t we?” He knew the man had to be seething, but he was too professional to let his rancor toward Loki stop him from doing his duty. “Now, what are your ideas on this matter?”

Together, they resolved the issue swiftly, and Loki took heart. As little as he liked the crowd surrounding his brother, they knew what they were doing, and they were loyal - to Thor, if not to him. Everything was ready for the coronation, and the worries for the future of his country could wait until the end of the festivities. The softness of silk against his hands was reassuring, as was the dwarf magic woven into the cloth. His formal dress covered him from neck to toes, and yet was fashioned in a way that people would think it a statement - wearing his colors through black pants and a green vest embedded with gold, and Asgard’s through his aquamarine gloves and his dark blue cape - rather than a protection from unwanted eyes.

Still, he wished he could-

No, enough of it. He had to get his head back in the game.

Loki bid a quick goodbye to the ministers and went down the different corridors until he reached Thor’s room. He knocked, to no avail.

His brother wasn’t there.

Surprising, for Loki had expected him to still be cursing the servants; blaming them for the stifling clothes he had to wear, instead of his usual combat gear. He rolled his eyes. Probably, his brother had sneaked off with one of his 'friends' to avoid his responsibilities. A petty revenge for yesterday’s events, and the oaf just hadn’t realized - or hadn’t cared - what consequences such an act could have on their political alliances. He breathed.

In.

Out.

He rubbed his palms on his arms. If Thor wanted to be rude, let him be. As always, they would forgive him soon enough. Loki turned on his heels, cape swirling behind him, and retraced his steps back to the church.

The coronation will begin soon.

Thor would be on time.

All would go well.

* * *

The cathedral was filled to the brim with flowers and ornaments, in deep reds, bright golds, and dark blues. The artful display of war trophies around the walls and the ceiling served as a tasteful reminder of Asgard’s strength, and as a subtle threat to foreign countries not to underestimate their new ruler. Both aisles of the transept had been furnished with chairs and benches for the noblemen and the guests of honor; and while the nave had been left empty for the common people who wished to attend, a red carpet slashed it in two, a clear path for the golden prince to follow. At the cross of it stood a throne, its back to the choir where the Loki, the Pope, and the Regent stood.

The whole city had been rejoicing since the very start of the day - parades, games and music. But the main event - other than the coronation - was the procession. Thor’s walk across the entire town, from the Palace to the Church. His brother’s last steps as a prince, witnessed by the populace. Loki hadn’t been able to attend, but he could hear the music and the joyous laugh of their people - and they were coming closer.

(He stubbornly ignores the glares of the court who shuns him for standing above them. He will not allow their jealousy to spoil the joy he feels for his brother.)

Thor entered the church, and all rose. Applaud sang through the summer air.

And just as suddenly-

Silence.

And Loki knew the love in their people’s eyes as Thor walked the down the aisle. He felt the excitement thrum through their bodies when Thor leaned forward to receive his crown. He saw their anticipation through clench hands and tight eyes when he took hold of the scepter and the orb. He heard the reverence in their breath as the Pope recited the Coronation Oath. He tasted the joy in their hearts as Thor was proclaimed King of Asgard.

The ovation was deafening and Thor’s smile was bright enough to blind them all, more blazing than even his crown.

Yet its glow was strongest when Thor looked at _him_ , and Loki couldn’t help but mirror it. The last of his tension flew from his shoulders, and he forced himself to straighten his back and keep his head up. He will stand proud by his brother’s side, knowing that Thor wants him there, and spit in the face of all who despise him.  
  



	3. Chapter 3

The ballroom was grand, decorated with Thor’s coat of arms and brightened by Asgard’s colors. It was opened exclusively to those of higher descent, but the Palace courtyard had been arranged to welcome the common people. The nobles had gathered in smaller groups and were discussing treaties and agreements as much as they were gossiping about the latest fashion.

He stood out, a smear of green among red and gold.

(A smear of envy amongst heroism and bravery, he could hear them say.)

(Loki wasn’t the jealous one. He was _not_.)

Loki wandered around the ballroom, introducing himself to their guests as the King’s right hand and closest advisor. Through it all, he collected valuable secrets, to be traded as currency in further negotiations and power plays. He bargained with rising noblemen in need of support and traded finely veiled threats and backhanded compliments with members of the court. He entertained foreign dignitaries, tongue loosened by the wine and delicacies. And slowly, oh so slowly, he got closer to his goal.

He was about to approach a gathering of Malekith’s court when Thor’s booming voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Come now brother, I want you to meet someone!”

Loki looked around. Thor stood a few feet away from him, circled by a crowd of prominent nobles and foreign dignitaries. A woman hung from his arm — the princess from Vanaheim, Loki remembered.

He resisted the urge to pinch the brim of his nose. Loki had little hope that this was anything but what it looked like. Still, one didn’t make the King wait, not even his brother. He crossed the room to reach Thor.

“What is it, Thor,” he answered, his sweet smile at odd with his flat tone.

Thor’s lips stretched into a giddy grin; the expression oddly innocent on his roguish face. “Loki, may I present you Princess Amora from Vanaheim?”

Amora used the opening to extend a delicate hand, back turned up, waiting for Loki to acknowledge her. Loki stared at her. She was pretty enough with her long, golden locks and green eyes, her curvaceous body, her fine features and her tailored green dress. Next to Thor, almost hidden by his bulky body, she looked even more frail than she truly was.

Still, hanging as she was on his brother’s arm, there was little doubt as to her goal. Power, most likely. Even a short stint as a romantic interest would elevate her above her station and allow her to develop contacts she wouldn’t find elsewhere.

Loki could allow that, if he took her hand. He was tempted to take it, even. To use his brother to trick her into revealing her ambitions and her plans. Make her believe she has fooled them all, lull her into a false sense of security before getting rid of her. Maybe even play the envious brother — of the throne or of their relationship **,** whichever is more useful. Convince her he is on her side, become her best friend, her trusted advisor. Have her reveal her secrets, and those of Vanaheim. Slowly isolate her from everyone she knows, destroy any sense of trust and confidence she might have in herself.

Use her as she had planned to use Thor.

But no. He refused to play this game, not when it would be his brother’s heart in the balance.

“Yes, we have met,” he answered instead, disdain dripping from his lips. Rage bled through her eyes. Her mask was good enough, but her self-control was lacking.

“Wonderful! Then you won’t oppose to giving us your blessing to wed!”

_What?_

“I’m sorry?”

“Amora and I are in love.”

She picked Thor’s hand and gave him a sickeningly sweet smile. Looking at her, at the way Thor cradled her hands in his, Loki could almost believe it. Almost. Loki knew his brother. Thor needed someone who supports him, not someone who uses him. A woman who challenges him at every step, who dares tell him when he is wrong, and who rewards him when he is right. Thor already had Loki to act behind the scenes, to be cutthroat when necessary. Loki knew his brother, and _this_ was not the sort of woman he would be happy with. _This_ was a childish infatuation; a flame, at most.

Something was wrong. Thor should know better.

But instead of coming back to his senses, Thor kept looking at her like she had hung the moon, the sun and all the stars besides. “We have decided to marry, and I wish to have your blessing.”

“No, Thor! You cannot marry someone you just met.”

“You can when it’s true love!”

“True love? You know nothing about true love!”

“I know more than _you!_ ”

Loki recoiled. He wanted to punch the smug look on Amora’s face, but the sudden hush across the ballroom following Thor’s accusation had broken the spell that had taken over him. Their fight had made him forget where he was. _What_ he was. He had to end this, and quick.

“This is enough. You are not getting my blessings to marry a woman you’ve just met, Thor, and it’s final. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other duties to attend to.”

“This conversation isn’t over. You will stay, Loki!” Thor thundered. Loki turned his back on his brother, determined to get as far away as possible, and to hell with the consequences of his actions. He could deal with the political backlash another day. But he hadn’t taken three steps when he felt a resistance on his arm.

He tugged.

Something shifted along his skin. He stumbled, turned back. He tried to grasp the silky fabric with his fingers, but it was too late. Thor’s hand, which had been gripping his forearm to keep him from getting away, had slid when Loki had reclaimed his arm, and took his glove with it.

His heart froze in his chest. “Give me my glove back!”

“No! Loki, you can’t live like this! You have stayed shut your whole life, cloistered in both clothes and walls—”

_Shut up._

“Enough Thor,” he growled between gritted teeth.

The fresh air of summer nights was jarring against his skin. His powers seared through him, tearing at his insides in their bid for freedom. Loki took a step back, then another. This time, Thor didn’t stop him. Loki turned away toward the ballroom’s doors, wrapping his gloved hand around the bare one.

He had spare gloves hidden inside a drawer in his room. He just had to reach it. No one would know.

“No! Why do you shut me out? Why? Why do you shut the whole world out? —”

Nearly there; only a few steps separated him from the entrance. He couldn’t listen to Thor. Thor did not understand what Loki had been through. He didn’t know about Odin, about the- the otherness. He knew nothing.

_Shut up, shut up, shut up._

“—What are you so afraid of?”

“I said enough!”

He exploded.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony cursed. The full moon was shining above his head, larger and redder than any he had seen in Midgard. But while beautiful, the sight was also daunting. He was late. Rhodey had arranged for them to meet at the gates _before_ sunset. By now, the ball had already started and Pepper will have his skin if he came back with none of the promised newfound clients, after all the trouble he put her through to go on this trip.

It hadn’t been his fault! The entire city was an engineer’s wet dream, from its impossible bridge to its flying ships. And everything seemed to work solely on steam! A few hours in his exploration, he had discovered that the glinting gold covering every building in the capital was actually a fashionable way to hide the clunky pipes used to transport steam. Or at least, he assumed it was steam. It might be another gas, extracted from deposits buried under the city. He had _had_ to follow the mechanical rabbit down its metallic hole. How could he not?

So what, he was a tiny bit late. He could still hear the laughs and the music coming from the castle: the party was still going strong. He was fashionably late, that was all.

(Somehow, he doubted that this little speech would fly as well against his fiery assistant.)

Tony quickened his pace. He turned left from the main avenue, toward the sea. Even if he made it to the castle, he was well aware that his friend will not help him get in. While he had accepted to help Tony sneak in among the noblemen, that had been before Tony stood him up. And even if Rhodey was still willing to help him — which Tony doubted — they had lost the opportunity to do so. As it was, Tony would consider himself lucky if Rhodey didn’t sell him out as soon as he infiltrated the castle.

It would definitely be easier to keep to the city’s festivities. He might find there a merchant with a secure, wealthy clientele, a high-ranking officer, or maybe a banker willing to invest in his business.

As if.

Tony wanted the very best, thus the very best he would have. Never mind that selling his wares to a king would reinforce his superiority in the minds of his competitors — not that they needed any more proof.

But first, he had to reach said king.

Which meant sneaking in by the backdoor.

Into a heavily armed palace.

In a foreign country, inhabited by a warlike people.

…

Whatever, he had done worse.

He had nearly reached the sea when he slowed to a stop. Something was wrong…

Silence. The joy, the partying laughs and the airs of celebration had disappeared.

Tony looked around warily. The city was a well-guarded fortress, but such a thing mattered little when the sheep invited the wolf into their pen. And with so many important political figures reunited in a single room... He took off sprinting, worry for his friend churning in his guts, going twice as fast when screams tore through the air. He pushed past the tightness in his muscles and the shortness of his breath. Almost there-

_Bang!_

He stumbled to a halt. The door he had been aiming for opened violently, hurtling toward the wall. Three figures exited the castle, the first one running away from the other two. Tony backed toward the shadows cast by the castle, hiding in their darkness. Whatever was happening there, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be part of it.

The pale shine of the moon and the unsubstantial lights from the castle’s windows and opened door were hardly enough for Tony to watch what was happening, but it was sufficient to discern the three people. The first one was a male, tall, pale skin and dark hair. He was backing away toward the edge of the shore, despite the obvious lack of an escape route. The other two figures were easier to perceive, the light from the open door still illuminating part of them. One was a woman, long, golden locks falling from her head, and the other- Tony barely restrained a gasp when he recognized the elaborate crown sitting on his head.

The king stepped forward toward the fleeing man while the woman stayed by the door. Tony quickly forgot about her, focalizing his attention on what was happening by the sea. The king was talking to the fleeing figure, arms stretched in front of him and his famed weapon securely fastened to his belt.

_Dammit_. He was too far away to hear what was being said. He had thought the commotion resulted from an assassination attempt, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. The king was facing away from him, but if the anguish on the other man’s face was any indication, the situation was grave. He wished he could discover more — that kind of emotionally charged information would be useful in later negotiations.

Yet, what the king said wasn’t enough, as the man continued to back away toward the shore, his chances of escaping getting slimmer by the second. When the man reached the end of the bank, he looked back once, toward the castle. But fear and grief quickly turned to determination, and he stepped back, into the water. This time, Tony couldn’t restrain his shock. Instead of passing through, the man’s foot stopped above — no, _on_ — the sea.

For a heartbeat, everyone stood still, the silence so absolute that it seemed the earth itself was holding its breath.

The next, the man had turned around and was running on the sea, light shooting across the water with his every step. The king shouted after him, but didn’t follow. Tony barely registered the woman joining the king by the shore, his attention stuck on the light still spreading across the sea. Ice, he realized. It was ice spreading across the sea, trapping ships and boats alike into the deadly waters, the Golden Bridge—

Tony jolted. The steam. With temperatures dropping enough to freeze an entire sea, Asgard won’t be able to sustain its fuel in vapor form. The ships were stuck, the Golden Bridge rendered useless, as were most, if not all of their technologies. In a few minutes, the golden city of Asgard had turned into an inevitable coffin.

All, through the actions of one man.

Despite the horror of it all, there was one nagging thought Tony couldn’t help.

He hadn’t known such technology, such _weapon_ existed. How could he still call himself the best on the market? It could change the course of a war, topple empires in minutes, threaten an entire nation, with all powerless to stop it. Forget the Golden Bridge, the energy guns and the flying ships, _this_ is what Tony came for.

He hesitated less than a second, stopping only to check that the woman and the king had went back inside the castle before following the figure disappearing into the mountains.

Not even the menacing clouds and snowflakes drifting through the summer sky made him change his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

Loki ran without looking back. He ran as far as he could and walked when he couldn’t run anymore. He wouldn’t stop, couldn’t afford even the smallest break. They were after him, and they wouldn’t rest until they had caught him. He had seen how Frey had reacted to his powers, scrambling behind his guards for protection. The regent had been the first to shout for his hide — though not the last. And Loki had made it worse when he had injured their king, accidental though it was. He had never learnt to control his powers, too concerned with hiding them, and when they had reacted to his fear and his distress, he had been helpless to stop it.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut out the sight of blood staining Thor’s pale skin.

His pursuers were fast on his trail, one much closer than the others. They _mustn’t_ catch him. Thor might be his brother, but the man had been raised at Odin’s knee, lullabies switched with tales of wars, the shine of Asgard’s radiance eclipsing — nay, hailing — her unceasing extermination of all who were different. Loki had no friend at court and no support in the council. At best, his status might be enough to spare him a death sentence. He would spend the rest of his life in a golden cage, staring out of his window and wishing for freedom. At worst…

No. They could curse him all they want, rage and storm against his continued freedom, but he wouldn’t come back. 

Up he went, to the highest mountain, where even the warmest day of summer couldn’t melt the eternal snow. Men couldn’t survive long there, even with the best equipment, as the north wind froze the air so much that weapons and armor turned lethal on those who wore them. But Loki would survive — _thrive_ , even. His powers had stormed inside him his entire life, burning through his veins to get out, uncaring of the consequences such actions would bring. How ironic! The thing that kept him apart from others for so long was the one to ensure his safety.

He smirked joylessly. His own little kingdom of ice and isolation.

Oh, if only the people of Asgard and his dear brother could see him! ‘Jealous,’ they had called him. ‘Envious of his brother’s rightful place’ and ‘too deferent’. He must have hidden something terrible. And how right they were! Loki, the perfect brother, loyal right hand of the future king. No one could be given reason to investigate, get an inkling that something was _wrong_ with him. Let them think he was hiding treasonous plans, if it kept them away from the truth! He had learnt to keep people away, even Thor, until they only saw of him what he wanted them to. Loki has spent so long hiding behind a well-crafted mask and fighting against himself, at war with his own core, that he barely knew who (what) he was.

(He could remember his mother, tucking him in, whispering in his ear to keep his head down, to keep it hidden.)

(He could remember Odin—)

If they had had their way, it (he) would have stayed a secret until his death.

Well, no more. Now they _know_.

This way was laid to rest, buried under ten foot of snow and ice.

He let go of it all, the pent-up rage storming in his chest, the repressed fury of his powers, of his very nature being shut out from the eyes of all for so long. He wrenched the remaining glove off his hand. His powers sizzled across his skin at their newfound freedom. They surged toward the offending cloth and instilled its very fiber, fighting the dwarf magic every step of the way until it looked little more than a pretty ice sculpture. Loki threw it in the air, smiling dementedly, and his magic viciously tore through it.

They had wanted him hidden, bound and docile.

Let them deal with him openly flaunting himself, wild and free.

His powers surged through him, dragging ice and snow around him. The winds picked up speed, hurtling around him, billowing in his cape, screaming in his ears. He begged the darkening skies to release their (his) fury; and they obeyed. Snow stormed, pilling up incredibly fast on the ground until it reached his ankles, his knees, his waist. He sank his power in the mountain below, and pushed. There was no end in sight — they ( _he_ ) were infinite.

And through it all, Loki laughed, high on power, giddy with freedom.

He knew his body was turning. He could see the blue skin and the black nails appearing, feel the white markings on his face. His vision became sharper, less hurt by the whites of the snow, more discerning of the reliefs, and he knew that his eyes were bleeding red.

He didn’t care.

( _Monster!)_

He didn’t _care_ what they said anymore.

He had been so afraid, so scared of what others could do to him that he never noticed what he was doing to himself. His worst fear had come true. His powers got out of control, he hurt his own brother, and now his people are hunting him down like a beast.

And so what?

They don’t like what he is? That’s nothing new! Never before had they appreciated him. They tolerated him, for he had their king’s ear and support, but only so long as he played the game according to their rules. He refused to be controlled anymore. No more “right”, no more “wrong”; no brother to follow and emulate. He was free to be himself, free to use his powers, free to test them to the limit without worrying about the consequences.

And he would enjoy every second of it.

His steps had taken him to a ravine, but he didn’t stop. He thrust his hands forward, pushing his power to obey, a stark picture in his mind.

For a beat, nothing moved.

The next, snow floated before him, changing to ice and back before his very eyes. He grinned, full of promises, and pushed further. The ice surged forward and above the gap, linking the two faces together by a frail bridge. It was strong enough to stand alone, but it wouldn’t support his mass. But Loki wasn’t deterred. He breathed deeply and, relaying as much on instinct as on pure stubbornness, he gathered his powers in his hands. He let them pool together until they threatened to spill, and shoved his hands toward the bridge. Magic flew forward, crossed the bridge and transformed it on its path. The beginnings were rough; the steps heavy-handed, the railings ugly and bent. But he was stubborn. Halfway through the bridge, he got better at understanding what his powers wanted from him. His thoughts calmed, though rage still burned strong in his heart, and he used both to give clear but powerful instructions. Several times, his control broke and his powers threatened to destroy the entire bridge, but he held on. He—

His heart stuttered. His body was drained, his hands shaking, sweat beading on his forehead, turning to frost as soon as they appeared. It was too much, he couldn’t—

No! He would not fail, he refused.

He stepped onto the bridge and walked, the reduced distance a sweet balm on his aching body.

He would _not_ fail.

He pushed and pressed and shoved, teeth grinding against the onslaught of pain, exertion screaming in each of his muscles, but still he held on. And finally, after what felt like hours but could only have been minutes, his feet stopped touching unbending ice and sunk into soft snow.

He turned around, barely resisting sagging onto the ground, and marvelled at what he just built, what he was capable of. The beginning of the bridge was sloppy, but his hand became steadier and his work sturdier as he went on. His powers were like an atrophied muscle: the more he worked with it, the stronger it became. They would require a lot of practice before he could use them as he wanted.

Once he did, he would be unstoppable.

But first, he had to find a place to sleep.

Loki looked around, half-wishing for a convenient cave. Unfortunately...

_There._

There seemed to be a plateau further ahead, near the summit. He would camp there and build himself an igloo, somehow — not big or elaborate, just enough to survive the night. He would create something more refined later, after he had rested.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay, Camp NaNo was... _something_ 😂  
> But I'm back, and the fic is now completely written! Updates should happen regularly on Thursday starting next week.
> 
> Enjoy!

Loki observed the shed standing in front of him with a disapproving frown. There was but the bare-bones of a shelter: walls to protect against the wind, a roof and flooring to avoid melting snow and damp clothing. It lacked both the comfort and the regality afforded by his station; it was humiliating.

He swayed in place. When he had fled from Asgard it had been late in the evening, now the sun was painting the sky in reds and oranges. He has climbed mountains all night and endured the snow in impractical clothes. He has strained his powers beyond what he thought himself capable of and now that the exhilaration has gone down, he felt drained, like he would crumble at the first sign of respite.

He stumbled inside, taking off his cloak to lay it on the ground. The cold did not bother him – it never did – but the ice was harsh and uncomfortable to sleep on. The cloth did little against that, but it was soft, and he was too tired to think of other solutions. Tomorrow, he would devise a plan to find food and clothing and other necessities. But it could wait.

He closed his eyes, listening as the wind of the storm picked up, and gratefully let the darkness take him away.

_Bam, bam, bam!_

Loki cracked an eye open and shut it immediately when sunlight assailed him. God rest the soul of the imbecile knocking on his door so rudely in the morning. Loki was going to-

_No._

The events of the past hours came rushing back, his heart freezing in his chest. He wasn’t at the palace anymore. There was no servant at his door awaiting to be invited inside, and no overbearing brother wanting to drag him out of bed and onto a horse. 

He got up warily. He could see the man knocking on the door through the thin ice walls of his shelter. He was alone, and there were few places to hide an army — at least in the immediate vicinity. But the shape was blurry and Loki could not guess whether he was armed, or try to read his intentions. 

At least he wasn’t breaking down the door. That had to amount to _something_.

He materialized a thin sword of ice in his hand and took two steps toward the door. He threw it open and used the momentum to thrust his weapon forward, stopping it right at the jugular of the intruder, the tip digging against the skin, but not breaking through.

“Wow, wow, wow. Let’s calm down, blueberry!”

“You dare come to my home to insult me, peasant?” The guts on that man! Loki flicked his wrist, and the tip of the stake scratched the skin of the intruder. The man gulped, but held his ground. Stubborn and strong-willed, then. No matter, Loki was used to dealing with the likes of him.

He ran his gaze over him, assessing. Tan skin, brown hair and blue eyes, stylish goatee. Elegant clothing, but not adapted to a walk in the mountain. Midgardian, from the cut. He might have been wearing it at the coronation or the ball yesterday and neglected to change before pursuing him. No crest. A dagger. Rich, but not wealthy. Drenched as he was, obviously unprepared for a journey in the mountains and exhausted by what must have been a terrifying hike in the dark in unknown territory during a freak snowstorm, he looked a fool — and far from a threat. But Loki didn’t drop his guard; the man had reached him, and that made him more dangerous than anyone else.

“Not an insult,” the man raised his hand to push the spike away from his throat, but dropped it when Loki strengthened his position. “A mere statement. Would you mind stopping this? The journey was long and difficult; only a barbarian would dare welcome a voyager in such a poor way.”

“You, a voyager?” Loki sneered. “I would sooner risk angering the gods than believe such lies. Now answer me or risk my wrath, what do you want?”

“Would dry clothes and a warm meal be too much to ask?” Loki barely restrained the growl threatening to escape his throat. Fortunately for him, the man finally dropped the pretense and his face lost the wry smirk he had worn until now. “Fine, fine! No need to be so aggressive. Or are you going to kill me, as surely as you condemned all of Asgard’s inhabitants to a slow and agonizing death?”

Loki faltered. He hadn’t known- he hadn’t meant-

No.

He regained his composure quickly, but it was too late. The Midgardian had noticed, and it showed in his stance and in his gaze. Loki refused to move; it was too early yet to tell how the game had changed. “Did you want to be the first to claim my hide, then? Hunt me like the beast you think I am?”

“That wouldn’t help me much, would it? Dead or alive, I would still be trapped here, with as much of a death sentence above my head as everyone else.”

Loki narrowed his eyes, but didn’t answer. He might not have wished death on his people, but they wanted his. He had reacted instinctively; he did not know how to undo it and cared little to try.

But the Midgardian… Loki didn’t trust his words. He might claim selflessness and altruism all he wished, but he had no true reason to come here under this pretence. Thor would have sent after him Ases much more fitted to this task, people who knew the mountain and its dangers, and whom Loki would think twice before confronting.

There _had_ to be something more.

And Loki wouldn’t let him go even if he _were_ genuine — unlikely as it sounded. If Thor’s army hasn’t found him yet, they must have lost his trail and would be wary of exploring the mountains when the weather was so unpredictable. But now, the man had discovered his location. Loki couldn’t allow this information to get back to them.

“Why should I care for the fate of my enemies? Or yours?” Loki flicked his wrist and the sharp tip of the blade dug inside his throat more pronouncedly. The man swallowed, and a red pearl slinked around the ice and dropped unto the snow. Should he withdraw the blade, more blood would follow — too little to be a danger, but enough to threaten.

“We don’t have to be on opposite sides, do we?” The man relaxed his stance and spread his hands to the sides. “We could be useful to each other. I have plenty of connections, and many who owe me favors. I’m sure we could figure something out.”

This was- But how? Loki knew that speech; he had heard it once before, when Frey and he had clashed so much over the way Thor needed guidance. The stranger couldn’t have known this, and a mere coincidence was a laughable idea.

Frey must have sent him on his trail, and told him to use those words once they stood face to face. But why would Frey want him aware of his spy? Why not have him report his position without Loki noticing? And if Frey had sent him, he must also have sent other ‘probes’ to the mountains surrounding Asgard. Killing this one would matter little, for Frey would know where Loki was hiding as well by his words as by his absence.

It was an obvious trap, laid by people who wished to keep him close, either to use him as a weapon, or to spy on his plans more easily. Still, Loki could use this. _How_ depended on the awareness of the man, and whether he was but a witless pawn, discardable by both sides.

“I have no care for the power bought by money and false words. For your sake, I hope that you have a better offer.”

“I-” The man looked around wildly, before seemingly coming to a decision. He still appeared confident, but Loki knew better — for he had worn the same mask in the past. “I am a scientist. The best in my field and yet, I have never heard of anyone like you. I cannot imagine that _you_ could have such knowledge either. I could help you figure out the source of your... powers.”

_Oh_.

Loki didn’t bristle, though the dripping condescension nearly had him lash out. For once, Frey had discarded Thor’s usual approach for one of prudence. It was smart — he would have known the temptation to know more about his nature would defeat the risks of the knowledge going back to his enemies. And meanwhile, Loki could use the respite offered to be better prepared for the next confrontation, and learn how to control his powers.

And on the off chance the Midgardian truly was a scientist and not merely a convenient spy — which lent some weight to Frey’s use of a Midgardian rather than an Ase — discovering more about the origin of his powers was too great an occasion to pass.

Loki took a step back and allowed the sword to disintegrate into the air. Let the man observe his powers and report them to his enemies. Let them fear him for his exploits and his potential, instead of his differences. He will use this situation to his advantage and destabilize Frey when the man grows too confident.

He lifted an arm and twisted his fingers. The ice clinging to the fine cloth and the stranger’s various strands of hair turned to water and flew away to Loki’s cupped hand, drying him instantly. The relief on his face was immediate.

“You have one month. Your name?”

The man regarded him with a strange glint in his eyes, but answered nonetheless. “Tony Stark. Yours?”

“Loki Odinson. But you will address me as your Royal Highness.”

At least, the slightly boggled look in Stark’s eyes was entertaining.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my biggest chapter so far! Though, that's because the next two haven't been posted (yet) 😆  
> Hope you enjoy!

Loki cursed. To say he had finally thought himself safe and free! Ases knew not to venture on this mountain, knew the danger of the snow and the wind. But Midgardians had never faced the deadly winters that plagued their country and didn’t hold the same healthy fear of nature. He should have foreseen such development, and planned against it.

He should have killed Stark. 

Instead, the man had promised answers, and Loki had been too weak to refuse. At least, he knew he had little to fear from an assassination. Monster or not, he was still a member of the Royal Family. Killing him would be treason, and Frey knew better. No, Frey would hunt him and offer him a mock trial. His death would turn into a spectacle, entertainment for their — _his!_ — people. 

Loki had underestimated him. He had thought Frey akin to Thor, first to enter the fray of the battle, preferring bluntness and direct approach to those underhanded moves — whether it was his true personality or the mask he wore as the regent, Loki didn’t know, nor did he care. But he had been waiting for an army to pursue him, to find him and subdue him, and he was ill prepared to deal with power plays and mind games coming from a single adversary. However, Loki hadn’t survived at court by sitting on his chair and waiting to be served on a golden plate. No, he had had to fight for his place, charm allies and enemies both, depose his adversaries, and trade secrets and favors. Kill, if need be. This game Frey had entered? Loki was born for it. He had learned it at Frigga’s knee and had been playing it since he had understood what Odin meant for him to be. He wouldn’t be beaten by some upstart foreigner or power-hungry lord. 

Stark had asked Loki for three days, to go back to Asgard, find the equipment he needed for his studies, and come back to him. Loki knew it was an excuse to go back to Frey, report on making contact with his target and get new orders. It was for the better, really. It added very little danger for him, and it gave him three additional days to plan and anticipate.

Stark was a foreigner, and a lowborn. Most likely, nothing linked him to Frey but the shine of gold. The man might have needed money for his trade or his family, or maybe he hungered for power and was promised a title and a place at court. Such loyalty was easily bought, and just as easily lost. If Loki wanted to use Frey’s weapon against him, he would need to use something stronger than the appeal of riches and possessions. In this situation, affection and obligation were the way to go. Love and sex would be best for manipulation, but it was impossible to achieve, considering his current... situation. Friendship would have to suffice.

Their rocky start will hinder his deception, and he would have to be careful of the way he played his role. Patience wasn’t one of his strongest traits, but with those stakes, he will make it work. He _had_ to. He would be the perfect host; bid his patience, smile and laugh in all the right places, whispers both lies and truth to the ears of his guest and steal his secrets with him unaware - or giving them willingly. He would learn what Thor, Frey and the city council said of him, and how they planned on dealing with him. He would learn the man, his likes, his dislikes, the ways he can be tempted, and what makes him tick until he has him wrapped around his finger. Just another day at court, really.

But first, they needed better living conditions.

* * *

Tony grunted under the heavy weight he was dragging behind him. The sled was a sorry sight, chaffed by time and misuse, but it been the last the shop had to offer. As it was, it barely held everything he had wanted to bring back with him. His tools had taken priority — he was very much aware that his life was on the line, thank you — but next on his list had been warm, mountain resistant clothes. Unfortunately, as seemed to be the trend, the shops had been emptied before he could get there. He had had to trade blankets and pillows from his hostel room against a wad of money, and got new boots the same way from a smith he had met in his exploration of Asgard. It had been grossly overpriced, but it would be worth it.

He had also met with Rhodey, to warn his friend he had found a project to work on, and not to expect him back before a month. Rhodey had known better than to pry, but there had been a knowing glint in his eyes when he had said Prince Hank had demanded his personal guard help King Thor to look for his lost brother. Thankfully, Rhodey might be a skilled tracker, but his knowledge laid in navigating cities, not the mountain. Tony just hoped no one would find _his Highness’_ trace before next month, or he could kiss his project goodbye.

He grinned when he saw the ice bridge was still in place. He had been afraid Loki would have destroyed it after his departure, to stop him from coming back, but it seemed like the Ase — if he even was an Ase — had been serious in his promise. From there, the walk to the igloo was a quick one, though not everything was as he remembered it. For one, a massive heap of snow laid next to the bridge where there had been none when he had left. But he quickly forgot about it when he noticed that the small shed had transformed into... well. Tony wouldn’t call it a house, because it was igloo-shaped; but ‘igloo’ seemed to diminutive a word to describe what stood before him. It towered above him, round with a flattened, but low entrance. There was something distinctively majestic about it; something that dared those looking to breach its threshold.

Tony shrugged off the feeling and entered with the first armful of blankets. He nearly moaned at the warmth that assaulted his sense. While it had stopped snowing on his way back, the cold and the wind had still been biting at his skin. His face felt scorched raw, and his fingers were burning from the change in temperature the igloo offered. The room wasn’t warm by any sense of the word - it rather reminded Tony of the early spring nights; a little chilly, but nothing life-threatening.

While the exterior had been bulky, a massive mount of snow with a small opening to allow entrance, the inside was both practical and impressive. The walls and floor were all made of compact snow, keeping the worst of the cold away. Theoretically, Tony had known the thermal properties of snow, and how the Nordic people had used it for centuries to keep their home warm, but seeing it for himself was something else. There was only one room, and an elegant pillar of ice stood proudly at its center, strengthening the roof and bearing the full weight of the igloo. As he raised his eyes to follow its length, Tony had to restrain a gasp. Perspective had made it invisible from the outside, but the top of the igloo was an intricate dome of ice, the rays of the sun diffracting and casting blue and purple hues across the room. There was a single ice platform fixed at knee high to the wall furthest from the entrance, and large and heavy furs covered most of it. Other furniture littered the large room and Loki himself was sitting in a chair of ice that wouldn’t have looked foreign in a throne room, and was doing... something to the reindeer skin hanging off his knees, still red with blood. Yuck.

Tony took a wild guess and went to drop his armful of blankets and pillows on the furs.

Tony averted his eyes and cleared his throat. “So, _your Highness_? Where should I put my equipment?”

“Your personal space is down there,” he answered, gesturing to a hole on Tony’s left he hadn’t noticed in his first observation of the igloo. “It is yours to use. What doesn’t fit in will have to stay outside.”

He went down. The basement was dark, the only source of light coming from its entrance, which will limit his hours spent working inside. But it was spacious and would hold easily both his equipment and a testing area — though he would have to ask Loki for a few tables, and a chair. He missed his lab; its top-notch equipment would have been perfect for this venture. Unfortunately, he only had what he had brought with him to Asgard, which was rather rudimentary.

The prince had given him one month: not only was it short, it also meant fast results were expected. But it wasn’t the first time he had been thrown into an impossible situation, and he knew exactly what to do. Tomorrow, he would compare the ice structures shaped by the Prince — the bridge and the igloo, mainly — and the one that formed naturally in the mountain. The data should be fairly easy to collect, and the results would help him direct the rest of his research. If it turned out that the structures were different, Tony might be able to reproduce it artificially and open a whole new branch in weapon making. If not, the knowledge he gained could still be used to create defenses against an attack such as the one Asgard suffered. After the disaster the coronation had been, it would sell millions.

Either way, he won.

Tony exited the basement much later, the setting sun threatening to drown him in the dark. The declining light bleeding through the elegant skylight would soon leave them blind, and Tony had noticed no firepit nor lanterns to accommodate for nightly activities — and he bemoaned having forgotten to bring one with him. He was dead on his feet and unfortunately, he still had several matters to address.

“So how does it work? Bathroom, toilets? Food, even?” He asked Loki. The Ase had finished cleaning the animal skin and Tony realized he was drying it when he noticed the small droplets gathering in the hands gliding over the fur. Soon, the fur was dropped on the bed with the others.

“There is a pit southward, about ten meters away.”

Tony gulped. He had expected that, had known there would be no running water. It wasn’t the least comforting. “And the rest?”

“If you want to eat, hunt your own food. Bathing happens every four days. You won’t sweat with those temperatures, and the steam bath are harsh on the skin. Too many in a row would be dangerous to your frail constitution,” he added at Tony’s horrified expression.

Tony looked around in dismay. There was no weapon in sight, and nothing he could use to create one — and he doubted his ability to catch game in such an environment. But he would deal with this tomorrow. The cold bit at his skin as he hurried to the pit and back and, the belly empty, he went to bed. His mood worsened when he felt a hand lift the blankets and a body slide in beside his, the low body temperature of his bed companion immediately cooling the relaxing warmth of the bed. But there was only one bed, and he was threading on thin ice as it was. He rolled on his side, determinedly ignoring the body behind him, and forced himself to sleep.

He wondered what Pepper would say, if she could see him. He snorted. She would probably laugh at his misery and tell him comfort and luxury were a lesson worth learning.

In this instant, he missed her fiercely.

* * *

Tony shivered as he burrowed in his blankets. He struggled to open his eyes and succeeded after several failures. Moving his legs were the next step, but-

His breath caught in his throat. His feet were- He whimpered in pain. He sat up carefully and brushed his hands across the palm of his feet and under his heels. He tentatively moved each of his toes, forcing them to bend under the burn. When nothing fell off, he sighed in relief. He was never sleeping without his boot again.

Very much awake now, he looked around the igloo. He was alone. His stomach rumbled, and Tony winced. His last meal must have been 24 hours ago. He forced himself out of bed and went to his workshop to get his instruments. He would do a few readings until Loki came back and made him a weapon.

Turns out, after Tony had gotten his results and burrowed in his workshop to process them, he had gotten so engrossed he had completely forgotten about the unfortunate inconvenience eating had become. But who could blame him? Discovering there existed someone able to manipulate ice and getting the chance to study both the effects of those powers _and_ the person who wielded them was all kinds of awesome.

His belly brought him to task again a few hours later, and Tony had to surface from his hole. Loki was back, and Tony lost some time pestering him for a weapon. He half-thought he would be told to fend for himself, but Loki waved his fingers and formed a spear of ice out of thin air. Tony barely resisted the urge to run back to his workshop and took hold of the spear. He made a few steps toward the exit when he dropped it to the ground, cursing. He rubbed his hand, burned by the ice. Tony looked around thoughtfully until his eyes landed on the blankets. He hesitated, but... _fuck it_. He needed to eat. He dragged his sleeve above his hand and wrapped it around the handle of the spear. The cold radiated through his skin despite the flimsy protection, and he hurried to use the spear to hack a stripe out of a fur. He could feel the heavy gaze burning into his skull, but he ignored it in favor of rolling the fur around the handle and fastening it until it held strong. Only then did he turn back.

Loki’s gaze was assessing. There still was a displeased curl to his lips, but he didn’t look about to throttle him, which was much better than Tony had hoped for. When the Ase made no further remark, Tony turned on his heels and left to hunt.

He came back hours later, soaked and empty-handed. If he had learned anything today, it was that spears weren’t constructive to hunting, and neither were snowstorms in July. And even if they had been, any game would flee long before he caught it. He was a weapon-maker, _not_ a weapon-user.

Thankfully, Loki hadn’t commented on it when he had entered the igloo, though the humiliation of having to stand through the Prince drying his clothes _again_ had been more than he could bear. Tony had retreated to the workshop, and burned the rest of the day away, head buried in various experiments. And if his belly was groaning in pain once he finally gave up trying to see in the dark and went to sleep, well. It was a matter for another day.

The following days continued in much the same vein. Thankfully, water was present in abundance, and bringing back snow inside the igloo, using the delicate cups Loki had created, was enough to warm it up to drink it. But food was becoming an issue, especially after another botched hunt. He had tried looking for fruits and vegetables, but the ice and snow had killed every trace of life surrounding them, leaving only scrawny trees and gaunt bushes. Already, he could feel his force failing. He had dizzy spells whenever he moved too fast; he tired much more quickly, and he felt weak with any little exertion. However, he hesitated going back to Asgard to bring back food. He wasn’t sure Loki would allow him back.

A breakthrough diverted his attention for a while longer. If his calculations were right, and he knew they were, then the only thing holding the igloo — or the throne, the table, hell probably even this infernal storm — together was Loki’s magic. And with a little extrapolation, it meant that only Loki’s willpower was holding Asgard frozen in her prison of ice; that the curse was permanent only as long as Loki wished it, and conversely, that no one but Loki had the power to stop the curse.

For the first time, Tony felt fearful. The strain of keeping a hold on such powerful feats had to take their toll, yet Loki acted as if he didn’t feel it.

But on the bright side, it meant that Tony had a chance of observing magic in live action, as it interacted ceaselessly with the snow and ice making up the building — _if only his instrument could pick it up_. One step forward, and two steps back. Just figures.

As he exited the workshop, he realized the sun was low on the horizon. It wasn’t dust yet, but If Tony had learned anything about living on the mountain, it was that night fell swiftly, and was as dangerous as the worst snowstorm. He had maybe half an hour before the skies changed to red and pink, and an hour tops before the only light to illuminate them came from the moon. No time for him to go looking for food.

“Stark.” Tony turned his head to look at Loki. The prince was sitting in his chair, a delicate table of ice standing proudly before him. On its top rested — damn him — a large red meat, scorched brown and resting tantalizingly inside an elegant ice plate. The fume assaulted his nose, and his belly gave a resounding roar. His face burned, but Tony remained stoic. The rules had been clear, he was on his own. He would not beg.

After a minute of silent observation and mutual assessment, Loki waved his hands. Light shot from them, and Tony could see particles of ice forming into thin air — and _oh_ , wasn’t that interesting! — and coming together to form a chair across the table. It was nothing like Loki’s, rough edges and clunky legs, but it was still amazing to watch. Tony took the invitation for what it was and sat opposite Loki. The Ase created a blade of ice and cut the meat in half, before dropping one in front of Tony. Tony still didn’t like the look in his eyes — disdain and hatred warring together — but he knew better than to question the show of pity. He grabbed the meat and wolfed it down, uncaring of how savage he must look. Tony didn’t look up until he was done, his stomach full for the first time in days.

“Tomorrow at dawn, you will join me on a hunt.”

It wasn’t a question, or even a demand; it was an order. Tony bristled, but kept his protests to himself. He knew he needed to learn, and he doubted that Loki would let him share his meals indefinitely. Tony nodded and prepared for bed. Tomorrow would be a long day.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING There is a paragraph in the second scene where Tony learns how to tan a pelt. I tried my best to make it as non-descriptive as possible; I hope that won’t disturb anyone.
> 
> Also, I know I said the updates would be regular but that (obviously) won’t be possible. For one, I hate editing. I had to cut Chapter 8 in three to get it done. For another, well. Life happened. Anyway, this means: no time table. This fic _is_ finished, so you’ll read it in its entirety one day or another. I just can’t tell you when. 
> 
> So, enjoy: chapter 8, part one!

Tony cursed as he trudged through snow. It reached him mid-calf and some of it had entered his boot, turning his toes to ice. Loki glared at him, but Tony ignored him. The asshole had wanted him up at ass o’clock in the morning? Tony was up. Being happy about it had never been in the plans.

“Stark! Are you trying to make the game flee? We are supposed to be hunting; it requires speed, stealth, and an actual brain!”

“Too bad you only have two out of three,” he grunted.

“Still beats having none. Now, shift your weight forward, until you are mostly on your toes. Good,” he added as Tony obeyed. “Step into my footprints, the snow will be sturdier there. It won’t make as much noise or vibrations when you step on it.”

Tony obeyed grudgingly — the prince was a rude git, but he knew what he was doing. The rest of the hunt went on in much the same vein. Loki told him off for being inept, Tony gave back as good as he got; both of them reluctantly amused by the dangerous ambiance and the biting banter. Unfortunately, their outing was for naught, and he returned to the igloo as empty-handed as the previous days. But he had learned to walk noiselessly, to hide his smell and to throw a spear. With a few more days, he would catch his own game. And Tony had the bonus of witnessing Loki hunt, freezing the water in the preys’ bodies before they even noticed he was there — and before Tony noticed their presence. Either those red eyes were more piercing than humans’ eyes, or the prince had discovered a way to use his powers to locate people. Tony didn’t know which possibility was the most interesting.

The following days went much better than the earlier ones. Tony could finally work with a full belly which did wonders to his concentration and his ability to science his way out of a problem. He spent a few days tweaking his conjectures into theories and devising experiments to either confirm or disprove them. He still hits the same annoying boulder, though. If he wants exploitable results, he has to know how Loki’s powers interact with the snow, and how Loki himself controls those powers.

His time in the workshop found itself reduced, both by their daily hunts — though Tony was able to negotiate for them to happen in the late afternoon, to make better use of the morning light — and because...

Well.

Tony might enjoy the prince’s company. A lot. 

He is witty, charming, and sharp. Loki’s tongue is scathing, and Tony gave as good as he got. They got along like houses and fire — or igloos and heat. They could have torn into each other, but they both made efforts and found some common ground in their mutual curiosity. Then, Tony got to know Loki better and… It was exhilarating. He had never met someone who matched him as evenly as Loki; someone as smart, with a humor as cutting and cynic, who did not disappear under the weight of Tony’s personality. It went both ways, and Tony knew Loki could feel it. The top was lonely and finding someone so fitting was a rare and precious thing indeed.

Two days after Tony killed his first prey - a white rabbit that had been foraging through the heavy snow - Loki insisted Tony accompanied him on a walk, several miles from their camp down the mountain.

When Loki killed a deer in front of him and ordered him point-blank to skin it, Tony nearly threw his hands up in the air and called it quits.

He was _not_ made for this life.

But he owed it to himself to see his project to the end, and if it meant abiding to the whims of the prince, so be it — and maybe, just maybe, considering his current clothes were always damp and uncomfortable, Loki might have had a point.

Doesn’t mean it’s not disgusting.

So Tony reproduced what he had observed Loki doing with their game whenever they brought some home. He strapped the body between the two pillars Loki created to this effect and stripped the fur from the flesh and the fat without tearing it. He used a knife to scrap any remains - he knew it would rot otherwise - and then warmed snow into a bowl Loki had handled him to wash it. Sometime — many times — he made a mistake, and Loki stopped him and explained, stern but patient, what went wrong and how to correct it. He learned about the proper ways to de-hair the hide, or that one had to use brain oils to properly tan the hide. 

It was revolting, and Tony was never doing that again if he could help it. But it also felt good not to waste so much of the animal carcass, or have Loki do his work for him.

Also, he got warm clothes out of it. 

“Well, that was properly awful,” Tony exclaimed after he tried to wash the blood staining his hands by rubbing snow on them. “You know what I could go with? A _bath_. You promised me one days ago, and yet I have still to catch sight of any large body of water for me to rest in.”

Loki rolled his eyes, but accepted the change of subject easily, and let Tony drag him into their usual banter.

****

Tony couldn’t remember what he had imagined when Loki had talked about ‘steam bathes’ but it had not been freaking _thermal sources_.

“How dare you, keeping that from me for so long!” Tony exclaimed as he let his eyes run across the lake stretching in front of him. “To say I could have spent hours lounging in warm water every day, instead of getting literal blue balls and risking my life to hunt rabbits.”

“How dramatic.” Loki snorted. “Bears don’t kill humans. You’d merely be mauled.”

“Yes, because _that_ makes me feel so much better. Seriously, though-”

His voice died in his throat as Loki disrobed, unveiling strong planes of ice blue skin embedded with geometrical stripes of darker hues. Some were a few inches in relief, while others dug in his skin. They twirled and spiraled together, like a snowstorm on a blue sky, or a whirlwind of emotions painted by a master craftsman. Tony ogled shamelessly; his gazed tracing the line that crossed the prince’s shoulders, teased at the armpit but curved back as if repulsed, and then twined with another on the upper ribs. At some point, it split in two, one climbing toward the neck, only to end in a volute halfway through; the other continuing down, lapping at the waist, circling around the hipbone and plunging-

Into the water.

“Well, what are you waiting for, Stark? Minutes before, you were begging for a bath. Where has all that enthusiasm gone?”

Right, bath. He ignored the stupid smirk on Loki’s stupidly handsome face — just as it became interesting! — and hurried to strip. Tony ran the few steps that separated him from the lake, the biting cold and the harsh winter wind enough to take his mind off the gutter.

“I wouldn’t have thought you a prude, Stark.”

“Thought of me naked, Odinson?”

“Hardly.” Loki snorted. Tony was offended; surely he wasn’t _that_ repulsive. “But considering all the wild stories I had to listen to, I think I have an accurate grasp of who you are.” 

“Ha! So you do listen to my stories.” Tony grinned widely when Loki frowned. “I knew it! You can’t fake disinterest anymore.”

“Only because your blathering is the sole noise on this mountain. You should be careful, for one day you might wake up with your lips iced close.”

“Nope,” Tony answered, ‘p’ popping out obnoxiously. “You won’t do that. Admit it, without me you’d be _bored.”_

An odd look crossed Loki’s eyes, and Tony swallowed. He stumbled back as Loki took a threatening stride forward. “And what does that make you, then? You who, according to your stories, have plenty of friends and just as many interesting projects. Yet you are _here_ ; it might have been under the guise of science, but you are not often in your workshop. Tell me, Stark, why are you so willing to spend time here, by my side?” 

His back hit the edge, but Tony barely registered the sting. He swallowed. He tried to come up with a quip, with _something_ that would deflect the mess this conversation has turned into, but his mind was blank. He felt his cheeks heat; less from Loki’s words than from the implication brought by his own lack of answer.

“Are you blushing?” And wow, Loki’s face was so close Tony could feel his soft breaths on his lips. His grin was terrifying.

“No! It’s just-” Tony resisted the urge to wave helplessly at Loki’s everything. “It’s fucking cold, and you damn well know it, asshole.”

Loki laughed as he swam away, and Tony used the respite to relax in the water. While the igloo was more than comfortable enough to live in, this was probably the first time in a long while that Tony truly felt warm. He hadn’t noticed how much he missed it. His eyes drifted toward Loki, and Tony briefly wondered if the water felt scorching hot against his icy skin, and if it was even healthy for him to be here. But the Ase seemed to enjoy himself, and Tony guessed that science could wait until later, when they were on the way home.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8.2 is up! Enjoy!

“Stark!” Loki bellowed. Tony raised his bleary eyes from where they had been squinting at his notes.

“Down here, _my Prince_ ,” he called back. Two glowing red eyes suddenly peered across the entrance of the workshop, framed by dark blue skin and hair black as night.

“I can tell when you’re being ironic, you know?” His eyes were serious, but there was an amused smirk curling at the corner of his lips, and Tony counted it as a victory. “Now come up here, you fool. Don’t make me get down there; you do not want me near your precious instruments.”

The threat was serious enough for Tony to relent, and to follow the Ase out of the igloo. Loki led him to a delicate bench made of ice — newly created, Tony couldn’t remember ever seeing it before — and made him sit. Loki remained standing at his back.

“Look forward.” The tone was firm and would bear no refusal. Tony obeyed easily, both because he had learned that with Loki, you had to choose your fights, and because the view was wonderful. The bench overlooked the ice-covered valleys, the snow glinting under the rays of the sun. Behind laid the sea, boats and ships still caught in the frozen waves. Asgard was invisible from there, hidden behind the vast mountains at his right, but Tony knew the sight would be the same — frozen in the throes of Death, suffering through a slow and silent decay; Loki’s benevolence their only savior.

He shuddered. It wasn’t from the cold.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his hair and tilted his head back forcefully, and a blade of ice came to rest on his throat. Tony stilled.

“It has been a while since we were in that position, my Prince.”

Loki hummed. “And how easy would that be? So many of my problems removed in one. Swift. Nick.” He punctuated each of his words by a glide of the blade against his skin. His fingers were light and did not to prick the skin. Somehow, that was even more intimidating.

Tony let his head go slack into Loki’s grip, and pushed his throat into the dagger, eyes daring. “I know excellent ways to relieve frustration,” he teased, a sugar-sweet smile on his lips. “And while blood play was never one of my kinks, I am always open to new adventures.”

Loki groaned in frustration, but the blade lifted from his skin and his grip became softer. “Insufferable man. Now stop moving, or I will cut your throat and sleep sound at night.”

Then he trimmed his beard, and Tony closed his eyes to enjoy the feeling of Loki’s hands on his skin, and the care of his touch. So gentle, yet so wicked. A true paradox.

What did it say about him, that Tony liked him so?

**Tim** e passes. Despite their deal, Tony spends less and less time in the workshop, and more in Loki’s company. He tells himself it’s because he still doesn’t know how to observe magic through his instruments, and that he might as well do something productive until he finds a solution.

Sometimes, Loki spends time in the workshop, creating ice and snow of various natures for Tony to analyze. Other times, he will drag Tony out of the igloo and across the mountain to show him natural marvels, from caves appearing straight out of a fantasy book, to a forest of trees completely encased in ice, stalactites dropping from their branches and chiming in the soft breeze - Tony had the sneaky suspicion that last one wasn’t entirely natural.

They continued eating together, sharing their meal when one of them - Tony - hasn’t been able to catch anything. Tony was throwing the bones into the pit several feet away from their igloo when he realized that he has been here for nearly three weeks now, and that their deal would end in one.

He... wasn’t sure he wanted to go.

He missed his friends. Dear god, did he miss Pepper, and as great as Loki was, he could never replace his Honeybear. But Loki had become dear to his heart in a very short while, and Tony wasn’t okay with leaving him behind and never coming back.

He heard steps crunching the snow under his feet, and a weight settle on the other side of the ice bench Loki had made a while ago. But the Ase didn’t speak, and for that, Tony was grateful.

“Do you ever think of home?” Tony asked after a while. He felt Loki tense next to him, but the prince stayed where he was.

“My only home is here; there is not much to think about.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Tony chastised, but didn’t push it. “I do. Think of home, I mean. Sometimes I’m in the workshop, and I’ll ask Pepper to pass me a tool. Or I’ll be hunting in the forest, and I’ll turn to laugh about some tree shape with Rhodey. I miss them, dearly.”

Loki kept silent for a while, but when he spoke, his voice was soft, reverent. “Tell me about them.”

And so Tony told him. He spoke of his life in Midgard as an inventor and a weapon maker, the most successful of the country. He told him about meeting Rhodey at school and finding in him a brother in intellect as much as a partner in crime. He told him about Pepper, beautiful Pepper, without whom he would be dead three times over already. He told him about Obie, who had cared more than his father, who taught him how to be a talented businessman and the best inventor; and Loki listened.

When Tony ended his tale, his voice was parched and the night was dark, the only glow coming from the stars and the moon.

“I take it you’ll be glad to go home?”

His eyes slid to Loki, but his face was as undecipherable as his voice. “Not exactly, no.”

Loki laughed bitterly. “Yes, a guilty conscience is a heavy cross to bear.”

Tony wanted to ask what he meant by that — was it because he was a weapon maker? — but he refrained. Straightforwardness often backfired with Loki; he might respect it, but it wouldn’t bring him the answers he sought. Instead, he changed the subject, and hoped Loki would let it go.

“How was it, life as a prince?”

“Thor would give you a different answer,” Loki said after a brief pause. “He would tell you that our people are powerful and feared by all our neighbors, and that our government stood strong despite the death of its king and his wife. He would make a grand speech about Asgard’s might, and you would believe him, for my brother had always had a talent for stirring up faith and devotion.

“He wouldn’t be lying, either. It is a truth. But it isn’t mine.

“I do not know how well-versed you are in the matters of the court, considering your current… employment, but you must know I haven’t always looked like that,” Loki said with a wry voice laced with disgust - at himself or others, Tony didn’t know, but he nodded all the same, for he had guessed as much. “Our nation might not follow an inheritance succession, but I was never considered for the crown prince position. King Odin had judged it too stressful, and my powers — myself — needed to be kept hidden from others, least I aroused fear and hatred. I obeyed, for he was a wise king, and although he never was a warm father and rarely showed it, Thor and I knew him loving.

“We grew up, Thor learning how to control crowds and rule a country from the limelight; and I by his side, in the shade of his throne, advising him on matters and thwarting attempts against his life and Asgard’s prosperity alike. Those years were blessed with peace and for a while, we were happy.”

A stiff wind blew between them, and Tony shuddered. It felt ominous. It had no rationale, but it felt like a gaping tear had opened between them, too large to cross; or even to communicate. He turned toward Loki and took his hand in his. Touch did not help.

For a few minutes, the silence was only subject to their soft breathing.

“Three years ago, King Odin and Queen Frigga climbed on a ship for Vanaheim, and perished in a storm at sea. Thor was young, too young to be crowned yet, so the council gathered and appointed Lord Frey regent. The loss…” Loki swallowed; eyes heavy with grief. “What had been a great friendship between brothers turned sour with loss. Where Thor shone, I hid; where he boasted, I kept silent; we did not understand each other anymore.

“Without Frigga’s soothing reassurances and Odin’s firm directives, my role quickly became chaffing. The council, who had never seen my worth nor the need for my presence, turned against me without a king to keep them in line. They all tried to alienate Thor against me, though I never could prove it. And while our bond never broke, it’s not- we were not-”

He inhaled deeply, eyes shuttered in protection against a pain Tony could not see, but very much present. “Lack of balance and support never mixed well with my powers, and soon enough, my control slipped. When before I went through months without a single spark of magic coming out of my body, I was now doomed to wake up with my room frozen over. I moved my quarters to the aisle furthest away under the pretense of privacy, and I restricted access as much as I could. To the joy of the council and the regent, I limited my appearance at court to official functions, and I begged off any activities Thor wished us to share.

“As I continued to grow, so did my powers. I had to bargain with the dwarves of Nidavellir for clothes capable of keeping my powers locked in my body, and their silence cost me more than their craft — yet, it was a price I would gladly pay. But still they would fight me for every inch, burning to get out, until the one thing to keep them away was a thin cloth separating me from the outside world. I suppose it was inevitable then; that they would reveal themselves the way they did.”

Loki fell silent. Tony didn’t know what to say; he had known it wouldn’t be pretty — come on; the guy had fled his own kingdom — but that didn’t make it any easier. He didn’t know what Loki wanted to hear, or what he needed to hear; if Tony should say anything at all. He was terrible at this, just ask anyone. When he could bear the silence no longer, he squeezed the hand in his and said:

“I’m sorry you had to live through that.” He tried for a smile; it fell short. “But maybe the situation isn’t as dire as you think it is? Your brother didn’t seem like he wanted to let you go, that night. He’d probably welcome you back with open arms and a slap on the shoulder.”

“‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ Is that what you’re gunning for, Stark?” Loki’s eyes were flinty, but his voice was soft with icy rage. “Lock up the beast in a golden cage; out of sight, out of mind. The mad prince finally brought to heel! Thor’s reign _must_ start unblemished.”

Tony dropped his hand, feeling the ice of Loki’s skin burn through his nerves. The accusation that he-

Unbelievable.

His anger, accumulated throughout the days, reached its peak. He exploded. “You do realize what a stupid decision that was, right? If Odin hadn’t hidden you away like a dirty secret; if he had praised your skills and tried teaching you control instead, they would all have been forced to accept it. He made it impossible for you to reveal yourself without tarnishing his reputation. _Of course_ you’d be put you under the fires of your enemies as soon as your control slipped. And that’s not even getting into the forced isolation issue! He didn’t protect you; he threw-”

“Hold your tongue,” Loki hissed. “It’s my father you’re speaking of. Besides, haven’t you realized by now? I have no control over this curse!”

“Bullshit. Just look at everything you built: the igloo, the bridge, this damn bench... They only stand because of your magic. The structure is all kinds of wrongs, it has no internal strength; it defies the laws of physics as we know them! And the warmth of the sea should have been enough to thaw the ice surrounding Asgard _weeks_ ago. Your powers, your _will_ are the only thing keeping it prisoner. Don’t you see? It’s no curse; it’s a part of you, and it obeys you as your arms and your legs do!” He breathed in, trying to regain his calm. He softened his voice and begged, “This is madness, Loki. Please, you must listen! This is not war, this is genocide!”

Loki shot up from the bench, looming above him. “Are you trying to accuse a father of alienating his own son, then? Or are you telling me I’m but a monster of my own design?”

His throat closed. He wanted to tell Loki no; that Tony didn’t care, that he had spoken in anger and his tongue had gotten away from him, but… It would be a lie. Tony might have built his fortune on the warfare industry, but even he had his limits, sketchy as they might be.

It must have shown in his eyes, for Loki stormed away without looking back.

Tony continued sitting on the bench for hours, feeling hollow from their argument, yet not knowing how it could have gone differently. He stayed out in the cold even as the clear sky turned grey. Snow began to fall, then storm. Loki gave no sign of coming back.

At nightfall, Tony finally relented and entered their- _Loki’s_ igloo.

It was a sleepless night.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8.3, and last part of Chapter 8 x)   
> Enjoy!

They don’t speak of it again. Loki didn’t return until dawn, and Tony had been grateful to feel the familiar weight settle on the bed beside him. They made the tacit agreement to leave their argument in the past and despite a few frosty conversations, they found their way back to stable ground. They had one common interest: both were vested in discovering more about Loki’s magic, and his origins.

Loki squinted in the darkness of his lab. “The light here is terrible.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Do not get smart with me, Stark. If you had an issue, you should have come to me.”

“Was that before or after the threats on my life?”

Loki glared at him, exasperation clear on his face. He waved a dark blue hand and the far wall hollowed until, by Tony’s estimate, it went beyond the length of the igloo above them by three or four feet. It was still underground, but Loki’s hands twisted again and the snow of the new roof compressed to form a thin layer of ice.

Tony blinked once at his new window and his lips stretched into a broad smile. “Awesome! Come on, this will be our new testing area,” he added, grabbing Loki’s arm and dragging him after him. He installed the necessary instruments around them and tuned them to fit their new luminosity and space environment. “All done!”

Loki settled back against one table, arms crossed. Tony hurried to explain the purpose of the experiment before the Ase could walk out.

“Okay, look. You know how ice can influence the path light and sound travel on? My theory is that your magic still interacts with your creations even after you finished building them. Such interaction has to change the molecular structure of the ice, which change how light and sound interact with it. My previous experiments allowed me to collect data from ‘natural ice’ and from some stuff you created. It helped me fine-tune my devices, but I’m still missing knowledge to observe dormant magic correctly. The left-over magic in the structure you created,” he added to Loki’s benefit. “But it should be enough to detect magic when you are using it — or active magic, if you want to call it that. I’m hoping to collect enough data to create instruments sharp enough to detect even your dormant magic.”

Loki’s lips thinned and his eyes narrowed. “I find it doubtful you’d be so altruistic.”

“Ultimately, it could be fine-tuned to detect all kinds of magic,” Tony said defensively. He didn’t add it could be turned against _Loki_. “But we’re doing this because if I can detect magic then I could scan your body and try to see how the ice and your powers interact together; where it rests when you’re not using it, for example. Maybe even discover if it’s something you were born with, or something that was forced on you.”

Loki tensed, but thankfully let it go. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just do whatever. Build something, like a sculpture. Wait for my top, I will record it.” Tony hurried to get in place behind his instruments, and then... “Go.”

Loki waved his hands, and strands of ice erected from the ground. They laced together in shades of blue and purple under the light and merged in a single body about three feet above the ground. The mass shifted and sharpened until a majestic stallion stood proudly between them, neck bowed starkly and legs close together in a piaffe.

Tony hummed lightly. “I wonder what’s up with the lightshow. It seems a bit… much.”

“Have I impressed you yet, Stark?”

“Too much light, not enough explosions. Another day maybe, _darling._ ”

They enter an easy pace, Loki creating and destroying on Tony’s go, and Tony carefully recording it all. Soon, the last of the tension still between them melted to give place to comfortable companionship. Their sharp intellects completed and challenged each other, and Tony found himself progressing much more quickly with Loki by his side. They made a game of it, Loki crafting each time more unique and unbelievable creations and Tony guessing what they were as he processed his measures.

It was the most fun Tony’s had in a lab in a _long_ time.

“A flower?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Yes, Stark. Just as a platypus is an animal.”

“That animal shouldn’t exist. It’s a biological anomaly,” Tony retorted absently, his attention more focused on the flower than the banter. It truly was beautiful: its delicate stem curved up toward the end and gave place to the head of the flower. The six lance-shaped petals were **curved** around the edges in slight waves. They curled at the top in a wide inverted drop. Just below them, six filaments - one for each petal - expanded outward, and the anthers announcing the end of their course looked like tears shed by the flower and caught in time by the ice encasing them. The leaves are spiraling down the shaft, as if crowning the majestic flower.

“What kind is it?” Tony breathed.

“A _gloriosa superba_. It’s also known as a fire lily.” Loki looked at him pensively, before seemingly coming to a decision. The stem of the flower still clenched into his fingers, he walked up to him until barely a speck of air separated them. Tony froze, caught between fight or flight. Loki reached over with his free hand and carefully pulled Tony’s away from the measuring tool. Tony let him, unable to resist, his gaze stuck to Loki’s eyes; so pained, yet so certain. He felt Loki’s fingers slid between his, palm against back. Loki placed the ice flower into his hand and curled his fingers close around it. “It suits you. Take it.”

The ice against his skin was so cold, it burnt; yet Tony didn’t drop it. He couldn’t, it was-

The gift was-

His breath caught. Loki was still standing above him, eyes painfully earnest. Tony wanted to kiss him. He wanted to surge forward and catch his mouth; grab him by his coat and drag him up the stairs and to their bed. But the look in his eyes — and tens of small remarks, lost here and there in thrilling conversations and comfortable company — wounded, already betrayed, _yearning,_ dissuaded him.

After several seconds, Loki left without a word. Tony didn’t stop him.

  
  


For the following days, Tony was completely absorbed by the results from the test: it was all he had hoped for, and more. From what he could observe, it seemed that Loki’s magic curled around the molecules of water to manipulate them until they took the form he wished. There didn’t seem to be any limits to his powers, either. When Loki created something new, it either could hold on its own, in which case the magic would go back to him, or it couldn’t and the magic turned dormant to enforce it from the inside, as it did for the igloo and the lake. The scientific consequences of this were enormous: the entire Laws of Physics needed to be adapted to include the influence of magic; and Tony, for one, couldn’t wait. Careful analysis also showed that Loki did not create ice and snow out of thin air; rather, he extracted the molecules of water dispersed into the atmosphere of his immediate surroundings, and changed its molecular layout to create ice and snow. It implied that, should he want to, Loki might control both liquid water and steam - though their fluid state seemed harder for him to deal with.

The matter of Loki’s body was also interesting. Contrary to the humans, Ases’ body contained only 45% of water — probably because of the extreme conditions of their environment. If Loki’s magic behaved instinctively and turned the water inside him to ice — and if he truly was an Ase — it would be enough to account for his pale skin and low body temperature. It wouldn’t explain the markings on his skin, or the fact _he was alive at all_ , but it would be a good start.

And maybe, just maybe, if the results he presented Loki with once their deal was through were enough, he might be allowed to stay longer — to further his research, of course.

But for any of this to come to fruition, he needed the right tools.

“You wish to waste your last few precious days to go back to Asgard?” Loki hissed between clenched teeth, their dinner laying forgotten across the table.

“It would be much quicker! I wouldn’t be as loaded as I was at the beginning of the month, and I know my way across the mountains much better now. And I know exactly where to find what I need! I could probably go there and back in under a day.”

Loki’s eyes were shuttered and unreadable, and Tony still did not understand why. He wanted to shake the truth out of the Ase, but that would only sidetrack them — and he doubted Loki would answer. “Fine. We shall depart tomorrow before dawn and be back home before the night has fallen.”

“We?” Tony exclaimed, “Impossible! Have you somehow forgotten that you are a searched man? That the _King_ wants your head?”

Loki’s lips thinned, and Tony got up, suddenly done with that infuriating, _suicidal_ man. “You know what, fuck this. You’re a big boy, you do what you want. Don’t go blaming it on me when things go south.”

The next morning saw them trudging down the mountain in a glacial silence that had nothing to do with the winter wind hollering around them. They made it in good time, the anger fueling their steps.

Tony hated it. He had grown to really like Loki in this short month they had spent together, but he was so fucking angry! He had known Loki didn’t trust him as much as Tony did – it leaked in their every interaction. But for Loki to insist on accompanying him to the city, when it put him in so much danger! He had thought Loki valued him more than _that_. Obviously, he had been wrong.

Thankfully, Loki had relented and accepted to wait in a village next to the capital. He had put on his cape and the hood would be enough to hide his face. They had to hope it would be enough.

When Tony crossed the city’s gate, a shiver crawled down his spine. Upon Tony’s arrival, the city had seemed to breathe with life and joy, secure in the knowledge of their superiority. Now, this belief has been shattered beyond repair, when the efforts of a mere man condemned it to death. Asgard was eerie, its streets silent and empty save for a few people huddled under their clothes in a bid for warmth. Most of the shops were closed, and the few that remained open were nearly empty. Asgard was coming to the end of its supplies, and death was around the corner.

He swallowed his bile. He had known from day one what Loki had done and the consequences of his actions. He had known, yet he wished to stay. It was still gut-wrenching to witness.

He shut his eyes close and shook the thought out of his mind. He would address this later. For now…

Tony made it to his room in record’s time — he prolonged his rental with the innkeeper for another month, along with a note for Rhodey that his research had been delayed and to worry about himself, for Tony was quite safe — and hurried to the laboratory next to the palace, to borrow their tools. It took some convincing and some bribing, but finally, Tony could leave Asgard behind him. It had taken longer than he had hoped, but the sun was still high enough in the sky that they should arrive home before nightfall. Then he would have three days to convince Loki to let him stay longer. He had made up his mind. He would see Pepper and Rhodey again; whenever that may be. But as much as he missed them, he _knew_ that if he were to leave now, it would be the last he ever saw of Loki.

As he neared Loki’s location, dread churned in his belly. Something was wrong. The streets were too silent, and the guards who had been monitoring the gates were nowhere to be seen. Tony quickened his steps. One corner, then two. Loki should be-

Rhodey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flower Loki gifts to Tony is a Gloriosa Superba. It looks like [that](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/8a/Gloriosa_rothschildiana_01.jpg). It's very pretty.


	11. Chapter 11

Rage.

Rage and pain.

It had been two days since Stark’s announcement, yet it seemed to be all Loki knew.

He shouldn’t feel betrayed. He had no right! They had both entered this bargain with their eyes wide open. Loki had known from the beginning that Tony answered to another master, and would sell him out without a second thought. He had tried turning the weapon back on its creator. He had tried gaining the man’s affections.

Tangling his own emotions to this mess had never been in the plans.

He had noticed his growing fondness for the Midgardian - _of course he had_ \- but he had been overconfident, so sure he could win him over. He should have killed any flourishing feeling in the bud. He had gambled, and he had lost.

When he came upon that realization, he made the one choice he still had.

He would die before letting Thor witness what had become of him.

“Halt!” a voice rang out from behind him. Loki spun around. The offender was a tall black man. The uniform he wore denoted him as a member of Prince Hank’s personal guard. He was alone, the fool. “Prince Loki Odinson, in the name of King Thor of Asgard, you are under arrest. Please surrender.”

“That was quick,” Loki sneered, discreetly getting into position. “I had thought Stark would take longer.”

“Tony?” The guard’s careful stance broke suddenly, if only for a second. Still, it was enough. Loki had seen it; Loki would exploit it. “What do you know of Tony? Where is he? What did you do to him, you bastard?”

“Well, well. Don’t you know?” Loki grinned, his smile feral and full of danger. “Your precious friend was sent to spy on me, by order of the King. ‘Rhodey’, is it? _Tony_ told me all about you.”

“You filthy...!” The guard yelled as he charged forward, weapon at the ready, and Loki wove his powers as he had so many times over the course of the past month. His magic settled on the snow at their feet. He grabbed the guard-

“Rhodey, Loki, stop!”

Stark hurtled out of a side alley and came to a stop between the two of them, heedless of the danger. His eyes widened when he realized the lieutenant couldn’t stop his momentum and was about to impale him. He did not move. Loki didn’t have to think: his grip on the snow shifted from the guards’ feet to raise a sturdy wall between Stark and the danger.

Damn him.

“What are you doing here?” Loki hissed between clenched teeth.

“Tony, are you mad?” Rhodes yelled at the same time. Loki, reminded of his presence, let his grip on the snow wall drop and curl around the guard’s feet. This time, he felt it, for the glare he sent him was venomous.

“No more than ever,” Stark replied cheerfully. He looked Loki’s way, eyes pleading. “Can you try not to kill my best friend?”

“And why should I listen to the demands of a traitor?”

“I haven’t betrayed you!” Stark turned completely to face him. His hands were restless, drawn toward Loki but hesitant to leave his stand. “Please, Loki, you _have_ to believe me, I couldn’t ever betray you. This is just some rotten luck!”

“You dare lie to my face, even after all that? The game is over, stop denying it!”

“I’m not-”

“Enough!” Loki cut him off, the fury and pain he had held tightly inside him finally breaking out. “I _know_! I have known since the very beginning. What did they offer you? Money? A title? I was playing you as much as you were playing me. Why else would I accept your company?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I would have _died_ , if you had refused me shelter? Or because you were interested in the knowledge I could offer you?” screamed Stark at the top of his lung, almost covering the soft ‘ _Oh, Tones’_ coming from General Rhodes.

“Oh, I see how it is, now. You know my powers, you know I could kill your friend before he could even raise his spear,” Loki sneered viciously. “I’ll just have to kill you both before any reinforcement arrives.”

Somehow, when nothing else had worked, this seemed to be the one thing able to stop Stark. His shoulders dropped, and he didn’t resist when the guard moved to stand before him. “Has the time we spent together meant nothing to you? The bathes? When you trimmed my beard? _The flower?_ ” he asked, voice small and despairing. Loki ignored the way his heart pinched and his throat tightened.

“The flower was-”

“Over there!” a voice yelled, followed by the clanks of armors hurrying across various streets. Loki readied his stance. This was the moment he came here for — why he had joined Stark on this venture, fully knowing the man would betray him. He would destroy Frey’s army and make him think twice about sending men after him again.

“What are you doing?” Stark hissed, stalking toward him. “Do you want to die? Run, you fool!”

“ _You_ brought this on me.” Loki’s hand shot out to grab the flesh of Stark’s arm, the cold enough of a threat about what Loki will do to him, should he come closer.

“For the last time, _I didn’t!_ Sure, I came after you because I wanted your magic, but I never planned on selling you out!” His voice turned soft, imploring. “Come on, Loki. You know me better than that.”

Loki hesitated, his grip slackening. His gaze searched for a lie in Stark’s open expression. The guard swore, bringing back both of their attention to him. “I know that look. Don’t bullshit me, Tony,” he added before Stark could protest. “Run, the both of you. I’ll fraud for as long as I can, but you need to go _now._ ”

Loki had plenty of things to say to that - chief among them, he cowered before no one - but Tony grabbed his arm before he could protest and pulled him toward the mountains.

They ran.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Loki hissed as he forced them to a stop. They were far enough from the village that no one would see them, and he had thoroughly destroyed their trail the deeper they went into the mountains. They were safe.

“Saving your hide! What were you _thinking_?”

“I was thinking that you had betrayed both my powers and my location to my enemies!” he snapped. “Have you?”

“No!” He tried to grab Loki, but he didn’t let him. Stark flinched and straightened, posture full of bravado. “Listen to me. I came to you because your powers incredible and I am a weapon manufacturer. I wanted to study them for my personal gains, and this I did without your consent. It was wrong and I apologize.”

Stark took a deep breath, and Loki debated continuing on his way. He had no wish to hear what poor excuses the Midgardian would come up with. “But I _never_ planned on betraying you. Sure, I wouldn’t have cared much about it either way, at the beginning. You were a right asshole, you know?” Tony asked with a wry smile that quickly disappeared. “But Loki, tell me. All those moments we spent together; did they truly mean nothing to you?”

His cheeks grew hot. He wondered fleetingly what a blush might look like, on his blue skin _._ “This is none of your concern.”

“Fucking hell! Of course it concerns me.” Tony jogged in front of him, forcing him to meet his eyes. Pain and hope warred on his face, and Loki couldn’t look away. “Answer me. What did they mean to you?”

Loki swallowed and averted his eyes. When he spoke next, his voice was hoarse. “They meant _everything_ to me.”

Silence echoed through the mountain. The wind hollered around them; a blanket to all sounds. Loki tried to focus on that, rather than Tony’s shaky breaths, or his own jolting heart.

He felt a hand settle lightly on his arm, and the uncertainty of it tightened his throat. His stomach clenched. How much had he destroyed of the fragile companionship between them, with his paranoia?

“Come on, let’s go home,” Tony said softly.

Home.

But for how long?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so long! At least I'm happy with how it turned out? I guess it'll have to be enough x)
> 
> Enjoy!

They talked. All cards on the table, hurt feelings on display, vulnerable with each other like Loki had never been before. It hurt - oh, how it hurt, to realize he had pushed away for so long someone who truly wished to be by his side. By the end of it, they were exhausted, both mentally and physically. On their way home, Loki had exerted his magic, strengthening their defenses, and it had lashed out through the climate, reflecting his inner turmoil with a snowstorm that covered the whole of Asgard. It had hindered both their movement and their vision, and Loki had had barely enough control on his emotions to lessen it around them, let alone stop it. Thankfully, they had been close to their destination when it had broken out, and Tony had suffered minimally.

"What now?" Loki whispered through the darkness. They were curled up under the blanket, the heat of it nearly blazing on his skin. They weren't touching, but they were turned toward each other, and Loki could feel the small puffs of Tony's breath on his lips. The newfound ground between them was fragile, but for the first time in a long while, Loki felt completely at peace.

"Tomorrow," Tony answered, "we will go down to the workshop, and you're going to let me scan you with the tools I bought. Then, I am going to tell you that the results are too complex to be analyzed in the mere two days we still have together. You're going to curse and insult my ineptness to do my work, and I'll smile and tell you that if you wish for more, you have to extend our deal by, oh, at least two or three months. And you will accept," he finished with a smile on his lips. Loki wanted to curl forward and kiss him for being so perfect, but he didn't dare. They weren't there yet, the shattered trust on both of their sides needed to be built up again. But they had time, thanks to this insufferable, incredibly smart human. So instead, he sneaked an icy hand between them and wrapped it around Tony's fingers, and tension left his body as he felt his grip returned. "For now, we sleep."

Loki woke up the next morning in a furnace. His eyes refused to open, too comfortable in their bed to accept he needed to get up just now. He could feel the line of a muscular body pressed against his side, and his lips curled in satisfaction. He closed his eyes again. Sleeping in once in a while wouldn't hurt. They had time.

* * *

"Tell me, why do I have to stand still for a full half hour?" Loki snarled. His arms were stiff from being kept straight at a light angle from his body for a ten minutes already.

“I already told you why.”

“Tell me again, indulge me.”

"Because you want to know more about how your powers came to be. Now shut up and let me work."

Loki's gaze trailed to the side of Tony's desk, where the ice flower rested innocently. "I'm seriously reconsidering my decision to extend our deal. Getting rid of you becomes more appealing by the minute."

"‘Your’ decision, was it?" Tony smirked, but it was distracted, his eyes and concentration fully stuck to the device he was using.

"Of course it was my decision. You should let me destroy this flower," he added before Tony could protest. From his crinkled eyes, the change of subject had been very much noted, but he let it go.

"I'm not letting you destroy it; it was the first gift you made me."

"The first gift was the spear. Actually, no, my first gift was not killing you when you intruded on my home."

This time, Tony did roll his eyes. "Both of those were for my own survival. The flower was the first _nice_ gift you gave me, if you want to be pedantic."

‘Because letting you live to see another day wasn’t nice’, Loki wanted to snark, but his gaze was drawn back to the flower, thoroughly derailing his train of thought. "I could make you another, if you want so much to have one."

"You can make me as many as you want, but I'm keeping this one. Now stop speaking so much, or you will stand there for another half-hour. You are disrupting the scans."

Loki scowled and spent the next twenty minutes glaring at the offending sculpture.

* * *

They were eating, when they came.

The Norns truly had cursed his existence.

* * *

"Are you going to spend the rest of your life in those mountains?" Tony asked softly, voice barely heard above the clickety-clacks of the cutlery on their plates. Loki pursed his lips.

"I know it’s not sustainable. I have to admit, that day at the coronation, I panicked and went to the one place I knew no one would follow-"

"The Great Ice Prince Loki, admitting to losing his perfect composure?" Tony gasped dramatically. Loki pushed his cold feet against Tony's legs and relished in his shriek. "Evil," Tony grumbled. "There was no need for that."

"This place was always meant to be a temporary location," Loki continued, and the small smile on his lips disappeared along with the playful mood. "It has become comfier than I had thought possible, but staying here would be tempting the fates. As strong as I am, I cannot fight against the whole of Asgard for eternity."

Tony nodded. Most likely, the same thoughts had already crossed his mind. "Have you thought about changing countries? I'm not saying you should come with me – of course I'm not, that would be too quick, right? Right. Though you'd definitely be welcome to it, should you decide to go to Midgard. And..."

"Tony," Loki cut him off with a fond smile, "You are rambling. And yes, I have thought about it, though it would be no use. Either the countries are allied with Thor, in which case they would sooner offer me up on a silver plate to secure my brother's favor, or they are our enemies, and I would prefer suffering Asgard's punishment to the wrath they would unleash upon me for my past deeds against them."

"And the neutral countries won't want to get involved in the conflict and risk suffering retaliation from Asgard."

"Exactly. Despite my enemies breathing on the front door, Asgard is the best - and only - place where I can live. I will need to move at some point, for this mountain is too obvious and too close to the capital. Maybe I will go north. The land there is more arid than any other, and people won't go there if they can avoid it."

"Less risk of detection," Tony concluded. He visibly hesitated, but forged on. "Have you thought about undoing the curse you placed upon them? Eternal snow and all that? It would go a long way to lessen their efforts in finding you, should the task reveal itself too difficult."

Loki shook his head quickly, tongue tied by his worst secret. "Have you looked at the state of the city?" Tony exclaimed, a spike of anger in his tone. "Loki, they are dying! I don't know what your city is running on, but whatever you did has broken it. Half of the streets are deserted: the houses were so cold, they had turned into death traps. The palace has opened their doors to all citizens who cannot protect themselves; babies are crying from the cold, children are asking their parents why they cannot eat and-"

"I know!" Loki screamed, eyes mad and panting with adrenaline. "I know," he repeated in a broken voice.

"Then why don't you stop it?" Tony pleaded. "Look, I am no paragon of peace, we both know that. But there are rules to waging a war that even the worst leaders wouldn't dare break. Such slaughter? That's not you, Loki. _It's not._ "

"I can't..." Loki admitted, voice barely higher than a whisper.

"What?"

"I cannot. I do not know how to undo it. Do you think me so cruel that I would have my people suffer for the sins of my family?" Tony shook his head frenetically, and Loki took force from his faith to continue speaking. "I know you believe I can control my powers in such a way, but I _can't._ I have tried to lift this curse until exhaustion threatened to pull me under. Nothing that I did wielded result, any progress I made was immediately undone when I released my hold on it. I tried, Tony, I truly did. But I can't undo it, not alone. I'm not strong enough."

When he finished, Tony's eyes were wide open. He set his mouth in a firm line. "You can do it, Loki, I know you can. Your magic is incredible and you’re stronger than anyone I know. You _will_ find something. And- and I’ll try to help as much as I can. That's what I'm here for," he added with a quick grin, there and gone. They stayed silent for a few seconds before his voice picked up again, almost timidly. "You could still come with me, you know?"

"I told you-" Loki started harshly.

" Midgard is Asgard's ally and wouldn't protect you. That's true. But you forgot something, Loki. I'm _also_ Midgard’s ally. I told you, I'm a weapon manufacturer. The best there is in Midgard, and maybe even across the world. Why do you think a lowly commoner as myself could join a _Prince_ to a King's coronation?" Tony paused, and Loki couldn't help the small burst of hope that swelled in his heart. "What do you think is worth more to their eyes? A recent ally, or the loyalty of their best weapon manufacturer?"

Loki swallowed heavily. "It won't be easy for you. It might work, but you will lose any respect you had, and give those people a lot of power over you."

"They might try," Tony smiled like a shark, full of teeth and lusting for blood. But it softened when he looked at him, and Loki felt a warm and calloused hand settled on his. "They never succeeded before. I know I could pull it off, Loki. Whether we do it is your choice."

"I... It could work. If I waited here for a while, until Frey tires of running after me, and if you lay the groundwork for an official immigration with none of our countries noticing before it’s too late..." A small smile spread slowly across his lips, quickly turning into a giddy grin. It truly could work! “Tony, I-”

He cut off, loud, echoing noises covering his words; the sound of something heavy beating down their makeshift door.

_BAM! BAM BAM BAM!_

"I- They are here," Loki breathed out. "But how? The protection I created should have warned me long ago, I don't understand..."

"Later Loki!" Tony exclaimed as he quickly retrieved his spear and got into a defensive position, a few feet to the right of the entrance. "What can you tell me about them?"

Loki forced himself to focus on the matter at hand. Tony was right, they had little time. He sunk his powers into the snow and ice around them, mapping their surroundings, analyzing the situation they were in. "Norns," he swore under his breath.

"What?" Tony asked, voice tight.

"They destroyed my defenses; I didn't even notice them unravelling." He curled his fingers tightly; he could shake apart later. For now… He pursed his lips, admitting, "I do not dare to try smuggling us out when I do not know how they are affecting my magic." Tony nodded his agreement, his eyes not leaving the door. "There are four guards” – _heavy, wearing armor –_ “about to enter. And I would bet that Frey was the one to announce his presence so politely. There is another presence, further away. Light on the snow, most likely a woman. I would wager she was their guide or their informant, and that she will not join the fight."

Tony adjusted his grip on his spear. "Two to one, then. I have fought worse odds."

"For what it’s worth, I am sorry to drag you into this."

Tony looked at him, eyes blazing with determination. "There is nowhere I would rather be. We're going to survive this, together."

Loki nodded, and with a wave of his hand, he opened the door. "Lord Frey," he greeted, ignoring the goons as they rushed in, ostensibly trying to encircle them. "To what do I owe this honor?"

"Prince Loki, we have come to take you home. Your brother has been terribly worried, he has departed on a mad search after you, and it has been weeks since we had any news of him. We fear for the worst. In its greatest time of need, the kingdom is once again without a ruler."

Loki's hands shook at the news, disrupting the blast he had been forming. Worry and guilt gripped his heart, his brother couldn't possibly be... "Liar! How dare you threaten your King so?"

"Loki, _please!_ I swear to you, I told you nothing but the truth. Asgard needs its Prince, you have to-"

"Loki, behind you!" Tony screamed. Loki dropped to a crouch, erecting a wall of ice at his back. He heard it break under the pressure of a blunt object colliding at full speed.

Frey was lying; he couldn't help the relief that burst through his heart. He hadn't destroyed the remains of his family yet.

He thrust his hands forward, throwing shards of ice at his attacker. The guard threw himself to the side, barely avoiding them, and Loki continued his onslaught. He had three of the guards' focus on him, and he could hear Tony's grunts of exertion as he fought against the last one. Frey hadn't moved from his place in the entrance, but Loki had no time to pay him any mind. His attention was divided between his three assailants, and he barely had enough control over his magic to shift between attack and protection as swiftly as he needed it. Dodge, dodge, attack, drop, attack. He had conjured a sword, but quickly discarded to strike with his powers – long-range attacks kept his enemies at a distance.

He was already feeling the strain of it, his hands trembling a little more each time he used his powers.

" _Tony!_ " he exclaimed as he heard his friend cry out. Blood. He smelt blood. He turned back, heedless of the danger, and rushed to his side, using his magic to shift the ground of the igloo under the feet of the two guards standing between them. When he was close enough, he erected a wall between them. He quickly inspected him, worry and adrenaline beating strong in his veins.

"I'm alright, Loki. I'm okay, it's just a flesh wound." Loki frowned at the blood seeping from the deep gush in his arm, but he had to accept it as the assault on the flimsy protection between them and danger threatened to break it into shards. There was no time for such concerns, they could tend to their wounds once the battle was over. He cooled the wound and its surrounding skin to slow the bleeding as much as he could, and took position at Tony's side, so that his weak spot couldn't be taken advantage of. On his signal, he dropped the ice wall, and the fighting picked up again.

It was easier, this time. With Tony at his side, he didn't have to worry about his friend falling while he was too far away to protect him. Their position next to the wall also meant that their enemies couldn't surround them, and allowed him to focus his attention fully on what was happening in front of him.

He fought. Grabbed the arm of his attacker, ice biting at the skin through the clothes. He dodged a sword, then another. Not quick enough; blood welled up from a cut on his tight, but he ignored it. Had no choice not to.

Beside him, Tony threw his spear and hit the guard, but it didn’t pierce the armor plate. Loki erected a quick shield, destroyed by the first hit of the assailer, but it was enough time to create Tony another weapon.

His exhaustion was worsening; his magic more difficult to draw on. He had to try and redirect it from where it had seeped in the various furniture he had built, and it fought against him every step of the way. From Tony's quick glances and the worried slit of his lips, he had noticed. They needed to finish the fight now. He willed his powers to sharpen, to be stronger, last longer. Direct projectiles didn't work, but he created several ice shards that grew from the floor toward the attackers, effectively trapping them.

He had neutralized two of them when a surge of magic spread across the igloo, shaking it to its foundation. But it was wrong; poisonous where his was cold, seductive where his was vicious. Another magic user? Could it be? He had no time to wonder as the foreign power fought to destroy everything he had built. He had to release his hold on the guards to stop the igloo from collapsing on top of them. The other user was skilled, much more than he was, though it felt flimsier, shakier. He could beat them with raw power, he knew he could. He pushed, again and again, against the vile presence. His arms, his legs, were shaking. Or was it the ground? He couldn’t stop, not now. Not so close to h-

His head exploded. Loki slammed hard into the icy ground. His tried to move his hands, to force his body up. His vision swam. The sounds were coming in distorted; something was dripping into his ear. His breath rattled inside his lungs, agony lancing through his body, spikes in his brain. A voice. He blinked, lost time. One of his arms crumpled under his weight.

Bile came up his throat. It was over.

But how? The only one who had been in range was-

Tony.

Darkness swallowed him whole.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, you might have noticed, the end chapter count went down : we are actually one chapter away from the end of the story! (Or at least, the first part of it.)
> 
> Enjoy!

Loki frowned, a pained moan slipping out of him. His head was pounding, his body, sore. He was cold. He tried to roll, seeking Tony's comforting warmth. Something stopped him.

He was _cold_.

He lifted a hand to his head to keep the pain away, but he jerked it back before his fingers could even brush it, a sharp ache crushing his wrist. He forced his eyes open and gulped as he recognized the damp walls and damaged roof surrounding him. It hurt. His mouth was parched, his throat bruised. He curled up.

Asgard's dungeons.

He could remember that blessed day, the hope of having found an end to this situation that had grown despite himself. Frey. The fight for their lives. Discovering that there was someone like him out there, and that they had sided with his tormenters.

Tony.

Pain crushed his heart. His eyes stung, but he refused to cry; to let his enemies win. He would break down, and he would rage and scream at the betrayal, but it would come later, after he has broken free.

He called to his powers, to push them in the bell-shaped metal cuffs that engulfed both his hands and half of his forearms, begging it to freeze the metal until the pressure became too much and the manacles crumbled.

His magic sizzled to nothing before it could even touch the metal. His heart froze in his chest.

His skin.

White.

He screamed.

* * *

Hours passed. Days? Maybe. When Loki came to, the moon shined above the sea, barely visible through the window in his cell. He wasn’t hungry, but that meant nothing. He wasn’t feeling much of anything, right now.

Creaking. Must be what called him back.

It was night. No visitor. An assassin? Maybe Frey had finally come to finish the job he had begun. He turned on his cot, his back to the bars of the cell.

“Loki, you-” The whisper – barely audible – cut itself off. His heart grew bitter, colder, cold enough to _burn_. Hate and resentment surged through him, and he clung to them. He was alive. He was all wrong, but he was _alive._

"Stark."

A bitter laugh echoed in the dark, and as his steps brought him closer, the light of the moon revealed the visage of the intruder. "And thus we are back to 'Stark', it would seem." Loki did not move, did not answer. "Yeah, I guess I deserved that one."

Loki heard cloth shift, and he hated, despised that he knew Stark enough to imagine his shoulder slumping, pain carving into his face; open and honest, even after all that transpired between them.

There was a time Loki would have done everything to take the pain away, make the man smile. Not anymore.

(It still hurt.)

"Loki," he begged, his hands grasping the bars of his cell. "I am _sorry._ I know it can never erase my betrayal, but I had no choice!"

"Liar.” Loki turned back, rose, hissing through gritted teeth. "You _had_ a choice. We could have fought, and won. What was it, that you had said? ‘Let's flee together’? What a fool I was to believe your honeyed lies."

Tony let out a pained noise. "I meant it; I meant every word I said."

Loki got up and stalked closer to the barrier separating them. He _growled_ when the manacles yanked his (white, _white_ ) arms back before he could come close enough to touch them, but he refused the indignity of trying to force them to extend further. The pity shining in Stark's eyes was unbearable enough as it was. "State your purpose here, Stark, and be on your way. I do not stand to see your face anymore."

"I..." Stark swallowed heavily, before straightening and complying. "I went to look for King Thor at the palace, to plead our case. He was nowhere to be found, Loki."

"Do you think me dim enough to believe your lies twice? You should at least try to be more original. Your master would be disappointed," he spat.

" _I have no master_ ," Tony hissed. He inhaled and continued; his voice strained. "I found him, but it took a long time, and the night had fallen by then. They keep him locked in a room, Loki, full of books and decorated of gold and green."

 _His colors,_ Loki realized. Thor must be in his rooms and Stark had guessed that, or he wouldn't have mentioned it. He offered no reaction, and Tony ran a shaking hand through his hair, gripping the cell bar tighter with the other. For the first time since he had appeared, he was expressing something other than defeat and grief, and Loki was glad, for they did not suit him.

"Something is _wrong_ with him, Loki." he launched himself back, pacing back and forth in front of the cell. His wide movements betrayed his agitation, and Loki couldn't help the worry that gripped his heart at the thought that something had happened to his brother. "I know I have never met him, that I have no frame of reference. But Loki, he looked so carefree! Like his brother wasn't two days away from an execution, or his people dying, trapped inside their own country with no way out! He barely listened to a word I said and kept sighing about- about some Princess!" Tony exclaimed, throwing his arms upward. "I have heard more than I ever wished about her 'golden locks' and her 'amazing grace', the lovesick fool!"

Loki tried to keep the pain out of his voice when he answered, but from the tightness of the eyes looking back at him, he failed. "He must have been speaking about Princess Amora, then. He had been asking me for my blessings for his betrothal, when I- when it all began. I refused," he added needlessly. "He had always been a negligent Prince. I am not surprised that love turned him into even more of a fool. It seems to run in the family."

"Don't-" Tony's voice strangled in his throat, and Loki didn't hear what he had meant to say. He had a fairly good guess, anyway.

"It would seem that the flower I gifted you was well suited, in the end," he added with a bitter smile, refusing to hear more about the ease his brother had forgotten him with. "It is highly poisonous, did you know? Especially when ingested. I only know of its existence because someone once tried to kill me this way. I survived then, but it seems you'll be able to finish the job."

"You will not die!" Tony swore, gripping the bars tightly, pressing his face into them as if he wished to cross to Loki's side. "You are not allowed to die, you hear me? I'm going to break you out, even if this is the last thing I do."

He turned back without waiting for an answer, for acknowledgement, and stalked away into the darkness to where Loki couldn't follow, leaving him alone to contemplate the pieces of his broken heart.

Much later, when the sun had risen and servants had come and gone with a meal, another set of steps echoed on the cold stones of the dungeon. For one incredible, terrible moment, Loki hoped for Tony; that the man had come to complete his promise. Then he saw the golden locks and the sweet, saccharine smile, and he crushed this hope to the depth of his soul – even more so when he noticed the lone figure standing behind her.

He rose gracefully to his feet before greeting them, "King Thor, Princess Amora."

"Prince Loki," she answered when the silence stretched on. As the highest royal, and his brother, it should have been Thor’s place to acknowledge him. It rankled. "We are all glad to have you back among us, we were worried."

"'Worried'," Loki sneered. "Why, your hospitality truly is incredible. You absolutely _must_ give me the name of your designer. It’s all very dashing!”

"A mere inconvenience." Amora waved her delicate hand, as if to make a pesky insect disappear. "Only to last until you have lifted the curse you put on this city and its inhabitants."

Loki smiled like a shark, knowing that one way or another, he won't survive lifting this curse. "And tell me, Princess Amora, what are your intentions with my brother?"

"Amora, please. We shall soon be family, after all. Lord Frey has insisted we wait until this terrible ordeal is behind us, to lift the people's spirits, and I had to agree. But I'm sure it won't be a problem much longer, will it?"

Loki looked her up and down, disdain clear on his face, and he found relish in her muffled rage. He raised his arms and made the chains bang lightly. "I'm afraid I am not in a charitable mood. Unfortunately for you, I do not believe you will hold my brother's attention for much longer; he looks so bored already. What a shame."

The smile on Amora's face turned into a dark and satisfied rictus. Her gaze not leaving his eyes, she demanded, "Thor, darling. Do come here and tell your brother how much you love me.”

And as Thor waxed poetry about his flame – using vocabulary Loki had heard his brother swear he would rather die than speak aloud – Loki understood what Tony had meant by something being 'wrong' with the king. Why Frey wanted him back. _This_ was not his brother.

He began to plot.

* * *

The day passed, and the night, and still Loki remained _wrong._ Something inside him felt displaced, absent. He knew now that the cuffs had to do with this, but try as he might, he could not find a way out of their influence. It scared him a little, to know they built such a weapon against him in under a month. Whether this was rendered possible thanks to Tony's research, or the mysterious magic user, it didn't bear thinking.

Around dawn, as the first rays of the sun settled on the iced sea before his window, displaying the broken boats taken prisoner inside its maws, steps came clamoring down the stairs.

Loki wasn't surprised when Tony stepped out of the shadows. He _was_ surprised to see him armed; the shape of a gun outlined against his pants. Loki wished he could be uncharitable and accuse Tony of wanting to hasten his execution, but even he could recognize the lie.

"Don't," Stark said before Loki could greet him. He produced several tools from his pockets, and since he seemed intent on keeping his word – for once – Loki heeded his demand. He watched as Tony bypassed the lock of his cell, then stepped inside and crouched before him. The Midgardian was avoiding his eyes, gaze determinately fixed on the cuffs he was rolling between his hands. He began to pick the lock on his right hand, and just as he was about to succeed, he paused. Loki could scream in frustration.

"Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, after all that happened," Tony began, gaze still fastened to his work. His hands clenched around his tools, and his voice wavered as he continued. "But I swear, I _swear_ Loki, I never meant for you to be in this situation. When I told you I was not there on Frey's orders, it was the truth. It still is. My betrayal is my own."

Loki (damn him!) couldn't repress the small, pained noise that came out of his throat. For the first time since he arrived, Tony lifted his head, and Loki could see his own pain reflected inside his eyes. It didn't make him feel better. "I- You were too entranced by the fight to notice it, Loki, but your magic had begun failing! The table, the chairs, the bed were gone, melted away without your powers keeping them together. The _igloo_ was shaking. I had to stop you, or it would have crashed on top of our heads and killed us both. It still did, but at least this way I had the time to get us both outside. _We are still alive,_ " he added, breath gushing out of him as if his guilt had finally let off.

"You think _I_ did not know that?" Loki laughed darkly. "I was the only force keeping it from falling from some- some magical attack! Oh, do not tell me you hadn't noticed _that_!" he taunted when he spotted Tony's crestfallen expression.

Tony dropped his head - in shame or guilt, Loki didn't care, not anymore.

(He did _not._ )

Silence settled back between them, and Tony resumed his task. Loki wanted to scream, grip his arms and shake him, ask him _why?_ Why did he not trust him? He wanted to hit him, curse him as he had cursed Asgard.

Touch him, one last time. Kiss him.

Instead, he bit down on it, and hurried to stand as soon as the cuffs dropped on the ground. He sighed in relief as he could finally feel his powers running through his hands and away from his body. His skin turned blue under his eyes. It felt right _._

He heard Tony inhale from behind his back, and for one terrible moment, Loki felt the air move – the warmth closing in – and feared, hoped, that Tony was about to touch him. But Tony stepped away, and the moment was lost.

Loki tried to pretend the lack of it did not clog his throat.

"The exit should be clear. Rhodey helped," Stark added needlessly. "You will be able to cross the lake before anyone gives the alarm."

Loki looked at him, drinking in his figure despite all that happened between them. "You know I won't release Asgard from the ice that traps it."

It was not a question, and Tony doesn't answer it. Loki nodded, once, and ran toward the exit. His freedom might not be as grandiose as he had hoped a few days ago, but then again, it had been too sweet a dream to be true. He would settle for living to see another day, one at a time.

But he had not crossed half of the lake yet, when a green, vicious light exploded right before his feet. He fell backwards, projected several feet in the air from the strength of the blast.

It burned.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, finally! Let's wait no more : enjoy!

Tony shouted as Loki flew several feet back in the air. He moved from the cell's window where he had been looking as Loki ran away from Asgard (from _him_ ) and sprinted toward the fight, cursing under his breath. How could it be that, every time he tried to help Loki, it backfired? His muscles were screaming at him, exhausted after the events of the past few days, but he pushed forward. He would not abandon Loki to fight alone, _again._

He was only a few feet away from the battle when he collided with _something_ and fell backward from the force of the blow. Yet, when he opened his eyes, there was nothing _._ In front of his eyes, Loki and some bimbo sorceress came to blows, wisps of green magic surrounding them both – the deep forest green Tony knew so well, and a sick, electric green that must have been the other magic user’s.

Tony got back on his feet and extended his hands forward. They slammed into solid air before they were even halfway outstretched. He yelled in frustration, unable to help as Loki took hit after invisible hit. The fighters barely acknowledged him.

He would not give up. He kept a hand on the wall and ran, hoping to find an opening where he could join the fight. Nothing.

Tony was helpless as he witnessed Loki be tossed around by the golden-haired witch - the Princess Amora, he realized with a jolt. Loki was holding his own, but barely. Tony’s own body was stiff, graceless from the previous fight; and _he_ did not suffer from a head wound. Maybe Loki could win, had it been a fair fight, but it was not. The princess’ spells were sharp, straight. There was no unnecessary movement in her casting, and only the right amount of power in her strikes. She had much more experience in using magic as a weapon, and it showed.

She deflected the shards of ice Loki had thrown at her with an incantation and a swap of her hand. Another incantation, and Loki had to crouch behind a hastily erected wall of ice to avoid an explosion of lime green, magical lightning. At some point, Loki erected a spike of ice behind her back, trying to impale her, but somehow, _somehow_ , the witch noticed it and took over its control, throwing the weapon toward Loki at full speed. He dodged to the side, but when he got up once more, his left hand was plastered against his ribs, a rictus of pain etched across his face. He was unsteady, stumbling on his feet as he struggled to assume a fighting stance, and fear gripped Tony’s heart.

Loki couldn’t lose.

Tony dared to look away from the battleground for an instant as he heard an ominous _crack_ reverberate beneath his feet - and indeed, the frozen sea of Asgard had finally began to thaw. If Tony had to guess, Loki's reserves were so depleted that he had no choice but to extract his magic from his environment. Asgard was slowly but surely coming out of the ice, and Tony hated it.

Loki couldn’t _die_.

He had to do something. He took out the pistol he had decided to wear before breaking Loki out of his cell. He aimed. It was one of his own weapons, adjusted to have high enough velocity to pierce armor. He hoped… It had only two bullets. Two tries.

He shot.

For one, glorious second, the bullet entered the magical wall, spinning deep and deeper still.

And then dropped to the ground. Tony swore aloud.

It had been so close! He knew it had. But the disturbance had obviously distracted Amora, and Tony watched with bated breath as Loki took the opening, creating a single, sharp shard of ice out of thin air, and launching it a full force toward the witch. Unfortunately, Amora noticed, and spelled the shard to a stop – or tried to. Whether because Loki’s strength of will was superior to hers, or because she was too distracted to counteract Loki’s magic entirely, the shard merely slowed down. They danced together, Amora placing Loki between her and Tony, but still the shard followed its ineffable course. Tony readied his pistol a second time, aimed and prepared to shoot.

He waited for a line of fire.

Yet, Amora discarded the danger and with a yell, struck once more. Her hands glowed green, electric and blinding, and then nothing. As if the universe was mocking him, Tony watched the blast of power Amora had thrown go through Loki’s ice shield and hit his friend in the heart, spreading across his body in a wave of maleficent green.

Slowly, Loki’s body turned to ice, inch by inch of skin, from the heart to his fingertips. He could only watch, hitting the invisible wall keeping them apart, as Loki's gaze left Amora to settle on him, burning with too many emotions for Tony to tell them apart.

And in this instant, Tony felt hatred. Hatred for this country that had turned against one of its princes, hatred for this princess who believed she could kill the man he loved and laugh about it. Hatred for himself, for being unable to keep his promise and protect someone so dear to his heart.

When the ice turned the vibrant red of his eyes to a dull blue, when Loki’s fingertips finally stopped moving, frozen, Tony’s breath left him. His heart froze alongside Loki’s, and Tony did not think it would ever beat again.

Maybe it was because the fight had exhausted Amora, or because she didn't believe Tony to be a threat, but the witch finally dropped the wall that had kept him away. In the corner of his eyes, Tony saw King Thor and his guards hastening toward them, but he didn't let it stop him.

He took hold of his pistol again, aimed and shot. This time, it flew true.

Too little. Too late.

Amora fell, but Tony didn't waste time watching her. He rushed to Loki's side, his feet splashing as he ran through the melting ice. There would be a time when he had to take them all to land, to ensure they did not drown in Asgard’s renewed port.

For now, he raised his hand and caressed the cheek of his friend in the way he had long wished to do; but the _thing_ beneath his fingers was pure, glacial ice, and not the deep soft blue and the rugged markings of the skin he loved. He wept, clinging to what was left of Loki.

* * *

"Are you ready to go, Tony?" Rhodey asked through the door of his room. Tony inhaled, trying to make his throat work through the grief clogging it. He forced an answer out.

"Yeah. Yeah, just a few more things to pack."

"Alright." Tony heard something thump against the door, and when Rhodey spoke up again, his voice sounded much closer - if softer. "Take your time, okay? We still have a few hours before the Bifrost comes alight. King Thor won't hold it against you if you're late."

"Who cares about Thor? Pepper would kill me." He laughed, but it sounded hollow and they both knew it. Still, Rhodey let it go, and left with the promise of coming back to haul him out of his room in four hours if he wasn't finished by then.

They had all been like that these past three days, speaking to him with soft words and calm voices. As if he was so fragile anything more would break him. Tony hated it. The only one who had spared him this treatment had been Thor – probably because the King had been on the receiving hand of the same shit. They had grown closer, the King insisting Tony told him how he and Loki had spent their month away from Asgard. He had complied, though several things had been too private to share, but he had depicted their days spent hunting through the woods, and the hours filled with research and experiments and _fun_ , and it had... helped. Sharing this with someone who loved Loki dearly and knew intimately the loss Tony was suffering didn't lessen the grief any, but it made it more bearable. In the end, Thor had asked that Tony showed him the place they had inhabited - their igloo - and Tony had hesitated. But he liked the King, and he hadn't found it in his heart to refuse him.

He had brought him to their place, only to witness the destruction that had befallen it. It made sense; Tony guessed. With Loki's _d_ \- without Loki's magic to hold it together, it had all fallen apart like a castle of glass.

But-

But.

There had been _something_ there. Tony hadn't dared investigate it while Thor was with him, but he returned as soon as he had been able. His hands tightened around the metallic box he was holding. He hadn't been able to banish the thought – the _hope_ – since he had come back.

He hadn't been wrong – hadn't desperately dreamt it in a futile effort to deny reality. He had gone back, and the entrance to the workshop had still been standing. While the tables and chairs Loki had conjured had melted back to their original state, one of his desks still stood proud. And on this desk rested the flower he had so desperately cherished, the one gift Loki had given him.

The one object so intricate Tony was certain shouldn't be able to survive when Loki was- had disappeared, let alone resist the returning summer heat and his hands desperately grabbing it at all hours of the day.

And as Tony finished packing his instruments, and the various analyses he acquired – keeping his precious case by his side – he couldn't help but... wonder.

And hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hides behind a rock_  
>  I know, I know, this is NOT a nice ending. But! There is a sequel in the work, so the story isn't over yet! Next to come : more about Loki's origins, brotherly interactions, learning to go forward after a betrayal, and much more!  
> (Although, I do warn you : I learnt from my mistakes, and this time I'm going to wait until everything is written before posting)
> 
> Please, leave a comment on your way out! Tell me what was your favorite moment, what made you angry or happy for the characters, how you believe Tony and Loki can find each other again... I would love to hear from you!


End file.
